The Case for Life After
Death
Professor Peter
Kreeft
Can you prove life after death?
Whenever we argue about whether a thing can
be proved, we should distinguish five
different questions about that thing:
- Does it really exist or not? "To be or
not to be, that is the question."
- If it does exist, do we know that it
exists? A thing can obviously exist without
our knowing it.
- If we know that it exists, can we be
certain of this knowledge? Our knowledge
might be true but uncertain; it might be
"right opinion."
- If it is certain, is there a logical
proof, a demonstration of why we have a
right to be certain? There may be some
certainties that are not logically
demonstrable (e.g. my own existence, or the
law of non-contradiction).
- If there is a proof, is it a
scientific one in the modern sense of
'scientific'? Is it publicly verifiable by
formal logic and/or empirical observation?
There may be other valid kinds of proof
besides proofs by the scientific method.
The fifth point is especially important when
asking whether you can prove life after
death. I think it depends on what kinds of
proof you will accept. It cannot be proved
like a theorem in Euclidean geometry; nor
can it be observed, like a virus. For the
existence of life after death is not on the
one hand a logical tautology: its
contradiction does not entail a
contradiction, as a Euclidean theorem does.
On the other hand, it cannot be empirically
proved or disproved (at least before death)
simply because by definition all experience
before death is experience of life before
death, not life after death.
If life after death cannot be proved
scientifically, is it then intellectually
irresponsible to accept it? Only if you
assume that it is intellectually
irresponsible to accept anything that cannot
be proved scientifically. But that premise
is self-contradictory (and therefore
intellectually irresponsible)! You cannot
scientifically prove that the only
acceptable proofs are scientific proofs. You
cannot prove logically or empirically that
only logical or empirical proofs are
acceptable as proofs. You cannot prove it
logically because its contradiction does not
entail a contradiction, and you cannot prove
it empirically because neither a proof nor
the criterion of acceptability are empirical
entities. Thus scientism (the premise that
only scientific proofs count as proofs) is
not scientific; it is a dogma of faith, a
religion.
I.
The first reason for believing in life after
death is simply that there is no compelling
reason not to, no objection to it that
cannot be answered. The two most frequent
objections are as follows:
(a) Since there is no conclusive evidence
for life after death, it is as irresponsible
to believe it as to believe in UFOs, or
alchemy. Perhaps we cannot disprove it; a
universal negative always is difficult if
not impossible to disprove. But if we cannot
prove it either, it is wishful thinking, not
evidence, that makes us believe it.
Now this objector either means by 'evidence'
merely empirical evidence, or else any kind
of evidence. If he means the latter, he
ignores all the following proofs for life
after death. There is a lot of evidence. If
he means the former, he falls victim to the
self-contradiction argument just mentioned.
There is no empirical evidence that the only
kind of evidence we should accept is
empirical evidence.
In most supposedly scientific objections of
this type, an impossible demand is made,
overtly or covertly-a demand for scientific
proof-and then the belief is faulted for not
satisfying that demand. This is like arguing
against the existence of God on the grounds
that "I have not found Him in my test tube,"
or like the first Soviet cosmonauts'
"argument" that they had found no God in
outer space. Ex hypothesi, if God
exists He is not found in a test tube or in
space. That would make Him a chemical or a
meteor. A taxi trip through Cleveland
disproves quasars as well as a laboratory
experiment disproves God, or brain chemistry
disproves the soul or its immortality. The
demand that non-empirical entities submit to
empirical verification is a
self-contradictory demand. The belief that
something exists outside a system cannot be
disproved by observing the behavior of that
system. Goldfish cannot disprove the
existence of their human owners by observing
water currents in the bowl.
(b) The strongest positive argument against
life after death is the observation of
spirit at the mercy of matter. We see no
more mental life when the brain dies. Even
when it is alive, a blow to the head impairs
thought. Consciousness seems related to
matter as the light of a candle to the
candle: once the fuel is used up, the light
goes out. The body and its nervous system
seem like the fuel, the cause; and
immaterial activity, consciousness, seems
like the effect. Remove the cause and you
remove the effect. Consciousness, in other
words, seems to be an epiphenomenon, an
effect but not a cause, like the heat
generated by the electricity running along a
wire to an appliance, or the exhaust fumes
from an engine's tailpipe.
What does the observed dependence of mind
upon matter prove, if not the mortality of
the soul? Wait. First, just what do we
observe? We observe the physical
manifestations of consciousness (e.g.
speech) cease when the body dies. We do not
observe the spirit cease to exist, because
we do not observe the spirit at all, only
its manifestations in the body. Observations
of the body do not decide whether that body
is an instrument of an independent spirit
which continues to exist after its
body-instrument dies, or whether the body is
the cause of a dependent spirit which dies
when its cause dies. Both hypotheses account
for the observed facts.
When a body is paralyzed, the mind and will
are still operative, though deprived of
expression. Bodily death may be simply total
paralysis. When you take a microphone away
from a speaker, he can no longer be heard by
the audience. But he is still a speaker.
Body could be the soul's microphone. The
dependence of soul on a body may be somewhat
like the dependence of a ship on a dry-dock.
Ships are not built on the open sea, but on
dry-dock; but once they leave the dry-dock,
they do not sink but become free floating
ships. The body may be the soul's dry-dock,
or (an even better metaphor) the soul's
womb, and its death may be the soul's
emergence from its womb.
What about the analogy of the candle? Even
in the analogy, the light does not go out;
it goes up. It is still traveling through
space, observable from other planets. It
'goes out' as a child goes out to play; it
is liberated.
But what of the need for a brain to think?
The brain may not be the cause of thought
but the stopping down, the 'reducing valve'
for thought, as Bergson, James and Huxley
suppose: an organ of forgetting rather than
remembering, eliminating from the total
field of consciousness all that serves no
present purpose. Thus when the brain dies,
more rather than less consciousness occurs:
the floodgates come down. This would account
for the familiar fact that dying people
remember the whole of their past life in an
instant with intense clarity, detail, and
understanding.
In short, the evidence, even the empirical
evidence, seems at least as compatible with
soul immortality as with soul-mortality.
II
According to the medievals, the most logical
of philosophers, "the argument from
authority is the weakest of arguments."
Nevertheless, it is an argument, a
probability, a piece of evidence. Forty
million Frenchmen can be wrong, but it is
less likely than four Frenchmen being
wrong.
The first argument from authority for life
after death is simply quantitative: "the
democracy of the dead" votes for it. Almost
all cultures before our own have strongly,
even officially, believed in some form of
it. Children naturally and spontaneously
believe in it unless conditioned out of
it.
A second argument from authority is stronger
because it is qualitative rather than
quantitative: nearly all the sages have
believed in it. We must not, of course,
answer the challenge 'How do you know they
were sages?' by saying 'Because they
believed'; that would be begging the
question pure and simple. But thinkers
considered wise for other reasons have
believed; why should this one belief of
theirs be an exception to their wisdom?
Finally, we have the supreme authority of
the teachings of Jesus. Belief in life after
death is central to His entire message, "the
Kingdom of Heaven." Even if you do not
believe He is the incarnate God, can you
believe He is a naive fool?
III
Arguments from reason are logically stronger
than arguments from authority. The premises,
or evidence, for arguments from reason can
be taken from three sources, three levels of
reality what is less than ourselves
(Nature), ourselves (human life), or what is
more than ourselves (God). Again, we move
from the weaker to the stronger argument.
We could argue from the principle of the
conservation of energy. We never observe any
form of energy either created or destroyed,
only transformed. The immortality of the
soul seems to be the spiritual equivalent of
the conservation of energy. If even matter
is immortal, why not spirit?
IV
The next class of arguments is taken from
the nature of Man. What in us survives death
depends on what is in us now. Death is like
menopause. If a woman has in her identity
nothing but her motherhood, then her
identity has trouble surviving menopause.
Life after menopause is a little like life
after death.
IV. A.
The simplest and most obvious of these
arguments may be called Primitive Man's
Argument from Dead Cow. Primitive Man has
two cows. One dies. What is the difference
between Dead Cow and Live Cow? Primitive man
looks. (He's really quite bright.) There
appears no material difference in size or
weight immediately upon death. Yet there is
an enormous difference; something is
missing. What? Life, of course. And what is
that? The answer is obvious to any
intelligent observer whose head is not
clouded with theories: life is what makes
Live Cow breathe. Life is breath. (The word
for 'soul', or 'life', and 'breath' is the
same in many ancient languages.) Soul is not
air, which is still in Dead Cow's lungs, but
the power to move it.
Life, it is seen, is not a material thing,
like an organ. It is the life of the organs,
of the body; not that which lives but that
by which we live. Now this source of life
cannot die as the body dies: by the removal
of the soul. Soul cannot have soul taken
from it. What can die has life on loan; life
does not have life on loan.
The 'catch' in this argument is that this
'soul' may in turn have its life on loan
from a higher source, and transmit it to the
body only after having been given life
first. This is in fact the Biblical
teaching, contrary to the Greek view of the
soul's inherent, necessary and eternal
immortality. God gives souls life, and souls
can die if they refuse it. But in any case
the soul survives the body's death.
IV. B.
Another quite simple piece of evidence for
the presence of an immaterial reality (soul)
in us which is not subject to the laws of
matter and its death, is the daily
experience of real magic: the power of mind
over matter. Every time I deliberately move
my arm, I do magic. If there were no mind
and will commanding the arm, only muscles;
if there were muscles and a nervous system
and even a brain but no conscious mind
commanding them; then the arm could not rise
unless it were lighter than air. When the
body dies, its arms no longer move; the body
reverts to obedience to merely material
laws, like a sword dropped by a
swordsman.
Even more simply stated, mind is not part of
the system of matter, not measurable by
material standards (How many inches long is
your mind?) Therefore it need not die when
the material body dies. The argument is so
simple and evident that one wonders who the
real 'primitive' is, the 'savage' who
understands it or the sophisticated modern
materialist who cannot understand the
difference between mind and brain.
IV. C.
A traditional Scholastic argument for an
immortal soul is taken from the presence of
two operations which are not operations of
the body (1) abstract thinking, as distinct
from external sensing and internal
imagining; and (2) deliberate, rational
willing, as distinct from instinctive
desiring. My thought is not limited to sense
images like pyramids; it can understand
abstract universal principles like
triangles. And my choices are not limited to
my body's desires and instincts. I fast,
therefore I am.
IV. D.
Still another power of the soul which
indicates that it is not a part or function
of the body and therefore not subject to its
laws and its mortality is the power to
objectify its body. I can know a stone only
because I am more than a stone. I can
remember my past. (My present is alive; my
past is dead.) I can know and love my body
only because I am more than my body. As the
projecting machine must be more than the
images projected, the knower must be more
than the objects known. Therefore I am more
than my body.
IV. E.
Still another argument from the nature of
soul, or spirit, is that it does not have
quantifiable, countable parts as matter
does. You can cut a body in half but not a
soul; you can't have half a soul. It is not
extended in space. You don't cut an inch off
your soul when you get a haircut.
Since soul has no parts, it cannot be
decomposed, as a body can. Whatever is
composed (of parts) can be decomposed: a
molecule into atoms, a cell into molecules,
an organ into cells, a body into organs, a
person into body and soul. But soul is not
composed, therefore not decomposable. It
could die only by being annihilated as a
whole. But this would be contrary to a basic
law of the universe: that nothing simply and
absolutely vanishes, just as nothing simply
pops into existence with no cause.
But if the soul dies neither in parts (by
decomposition) nor as a whole by
annihilation, then it does not die.
IV. F.
One last argument for immortality from the
present experience of what soul is, comes
from Plato. It is put so perfectly in the
Republic that I quote it in its original
form, adding only numbers to distinguish the
steps of the argument:
- Evil is all that which destroys and
corrupts. . .
- Each thing has its evil . . . for
instance, ophthalmia for the eye, and
disease for the whole body, mildew for corn
and for wood, rust for iron . . .
- The natural evil of each thing . . .
destroys it, and if this does not destroy
it, nothing else can . . .
(a) for I don't suppose good can ever
destroy anything,
(b) nor can what is neither good nor
evil,
(c) and it is certainly unreasonable . . .
that the evil of something else would
destroy anything when its own evil does not.
- Then if we find something in existence
which has its own evil but which can only do
it harm yet cannot dissolve or destroy it,
we shall know at once that there is no
destruction for such a nature. . . .
- the soul has something which makes it
evil . . . injustice, intemperance,
cowardice, ignorance. Now does any one of
these dissolve and destroy it? . . .
- Then, since it is not destroyed by any
evil at all, neither its own evil nor
foreign evil, it is clear that the soul must
of necessity be . . . immortal.
V.
We turn now to a stronger class of
arguments: not from the nature of Man but
from the nature of God; not 'because of what
I am, I must be immortal' but 'because of
what God is, I am immortal.' The weakness of
this type of argument for practical
apologetics, of course, is that it does not
convince anyone not already convinced,
because it presupposes the existence of God,
and those who admit God usually admit life
after death already, while those who deny
the one usually deny the other as well. Yet,
though apologetically weak, the argument is
theoretically potent because it gives the
real, the true reason or cause why we
survive death: God wills it.
V. A.
We could first argue from God's justice.
Since God is just, His dealings with us must
be just, at least in the long run, in the
total picture. ("The long run" is the answer
to the problem of evil, the apparently
unjust distribution of suffering.) The
innocent suffer and the wicked flourish
here; therefore 'here' cannot be 'the long
run,' the total picture. There must be
justice after death to compensate for
injustice before death. (This is the point
of Jesus' parable of the rich man and
Lazarus.)
V. B.
The next argument, from God's love, is
stronger than the one from His justice
because love is more essential to God. Love
is God's essence; justice is one of His
attributes-one of Love's attributes.
Love is "the fulfillment of the whole law."
Each of the Ten Commandments is a way of
loving. "Thou shalt not kill" means "Love
does not kill." If you love someone, you
don't kill him. But God IS love. Therefore
God does not kill us. We want human life to
triumph over death in the end because we
love; is God less loving than we? Is He a
hypocrite? Does He refuse to practice what
He preaches?
Only if God does not love us or is impotent
to do what He wills, do we die forever. That
is, only if God is bad or weak-only if God
is not God-is death the last word.
VI.
Whether the premises be taken from the
nature of the world, of man, or of God, the
last three arguments were all deductive,
arguments by rational analysis. More
convincing for most people are arguments
from experience. These can be subdivided
into two classes: arguments from experiences
everyone, or nearly everyone, shares; and
arguments from extraordinary or unusual
experiences. The first class includes:
- the argument from the demand for
ultimate moral meaning, or long-range
justice (similar to the argument from God's
justice, except that this time we do not
assume the existence of God, only the
validity of our essential moral instinct)-
this is essentially Kant's argument;
- the argument from our demand for
ultimate purpose, for a meaningful end, or
adequate final cause-this argument is
parallel, in the order of final causality
and within the psychological area, to the
traditional cosmological arguments for the
existence of God from effect to a first,
uncaused cause in the order of efficient
causality and within the cosmological area;
- the argument from the principle that
every innate desire reveals the presence of
its desired object (hunger indicates the
existence of food, curiosity knowledge,
etc.) coupled with the discovery of an
innate desire for eternity, or something
more than time can offer-this is C. S.
Lewis' favorite argument.
- the argument from the validity of
love, which insists on the intrinsic,
indispensable value of the other, the
beloved-if love is sighted and not blind and
if it is absurd that the indispensable is
dispensed with, then death does not dispense
with us, for love declares that we are
indispensable;
- finally, the argument from the
presence of a person, who is not a thing
(object) and therefore need not be removed
when the body-object is removed-the
I detects a Thou not
subject to the death of the It.
From one point of view, these five arguments
are the weakest of all, for they presuppose
an epistemological access to reality which
can easily be denied as illusory. There is
no purely formal or empirical proof, e.g.,
that love's instinctive perception of the
intrinsic value of the beloved is true.
Further, each concludes not with the simple
proposition 'we are immortal' but with the
disjunctive proposition 'either reality is
absurd or we are immortal.' Finally, each is
less a demonstration than an
almost-immediate perception: in valuing,
purposing, longing, loving, or presencing
one sees the immortality of the
person. These are five spiritual senses, and
when one looks along them rather than at
them, when one uses them rather than
scrutinizing them, when they are innocent
until proven guilty rather than proven
innocent, one sees. But when one does not
take this attitude, when one begins with
Occam's razor, or Descartes' methodic doubt,
one simply does not see. They are less
arguments from experience than experiences
themselves of the immortal soul.
VII.
Three arguments from unusual or
extraordinary experience are:
- The argument from the experience of
medically 'dead' and resuscitated patients,
all of whom, even those formerly skeptical,
are utterly convinced of the truth of their
'out-of-the-body' existence and their
survival of bodily death. To outside
observers there necessarily remains the
possibility of doubt; to all, who have had
the experience, there is none. It is no more
deceptive than waking up in the morning. You
may dream that you are awake and in fact be
dreaming, but once you are really awake you
are in no doubt. Unfortunately, this waking
sense of certainty can only be experienced,
not publicly proved.
- A similar sense of reality attaches to
an experience apparently even more common
than the out-of-the-body experience. Shortly
after a loved one dies (most usually a
spouse), the survivor often has a sudden,
unexpected and utterly convincing sense of
the real here-and-now presence of the dead
one. It is not a memory, or a wish, or an
image from the imagination. It is not
usually accompanied by an image at all. But
it is utterly convincing to the experiencer.
Only to one who trusts the experiencer is
the experience transferable as evidence,
however. And that link can be denied without
absurdity. Again, it is a very strong and
convincing experience, but not a convincing
proof.
- What would be a convincing proof from
experience? If we could only put our hands
into the wounds of a dead man who had risen
again! The most certain assurance of life
after death for the Christian is the
historical, literal resurrection of Christ.
The Christian believes in life after death
not because of an argument, first of all,
but because of a witness. The Church is that
witness; 'apostolic succession' means first
of all the chain of witnesses beginning with
eyewitnesses: "We have been eyewitnesses of
His resurrection. . . and we testify
(witness) to you." This is the answer to the
skeptic who asks: "What do you know for sure
about life after death anyway? Have you ever
been there? Have you come back to tell us?"
The Christian reply is: "No, but I have a
very good Friend who has. I believe Him, and
I follow Him not only through life but also
through death. Come along"