Suicideby David Hume
Philosophy is the sovereign antidote to superstition and false religion. Plain good-sense and the practice of the world can serve most purposes of life, but are ineffective against them.
Both history and daily experience has instances of capable men who are enslaved by the grossest superstition.
Even gaiety and sweetness of temper afford no remedy to so virulent a poison. Women often feel many of their joys blasted by this importunate intruder.
But when sound philosophy has gained possession of the mind, superstition is effectively ended. Her triumph over this enemy is more compleat than over most of the vices and imperfections, incident to human nature.
Love or anger, ambition or avarice, have their root in the temper and affections, which the soundest reason is scarce ever able fully to correct.
But superstition is founded on false opinion. It must immediately vanish when true philosophy has inspired juster sentiments of superior powers. The contest is here more equal between the distemper and the medicine. Nothing can hinder the latter from proving effectual, but its being false and sophisticated.
It will here be superfluous to magnify the merits of philosophy, by displaying the pernicious tendency of that vice, of which it cures the human mind.
Tully says that the superstitious man is miserable in every scene and every incident of life. He is even afraid of sleep. He examines his dreams, and finds visions of future calamities.
Only death can end his misery. But he dares not kill himself. Instead, he prolongs a miserable existence from a vain fear that he would offend his Maker.
The presents of God and Nature are ravished from us by this cruel enemy. ; and notwithstanding that one step would remove us from the regions of pain and sorrow, her menaces still chain us down to a hated being, which she herself chiefly contributes to render miserable.
It is observed of such as have been reduced by the calamities of life to the necessity of employing this fatal remedy, that, if the unseasonable care of their friends deprive them of that species of death, which they proposed to themselves, they seldom venture upon any other, or can summon up so much resolution, a second time, as to execute their purpose.
So great is our horror of death, that when it presents itself in any form, it acquires new terrors and overcomes his feeble courage.
But when the menaces of superstition are joined to this natural timidity, no wonder it quite deprives men of all power over their lives; since even many pleasures and enjoyments, to which we are carried by a strong propensity, are torn from us by this inhuman tyrant.
Let us here try to restore men to their native liberty, by:
- examining all the common arguments against suicide, and
- showing that suicide may be free from guilt or blame, according to the sentiments of all the antient philosophers.
If Suicide is criminal, it must be a transgression of our duty, either to God, our neighbour, or ourselves.
But Suicide is no transgression of our duty to God. In order to govern the material world, the Creator has established general and immutable laws which maintain all bodies in their proper sphere and function.
To govern the animal world, He has endowed all living creatures with bodily and mental powers; with senses, passions, appetites, memory, and judgment.
These regulate them in their destined course of life. These two distinct principles of the material and animal world continually encroach on each other. They mutually retard or advance each other’s operation.
The powers of men and of all other animals are restrained and directed by the nature and qualities of the surrounding bodies. The modifications and actions of these bodies are incessantly altered by the operation of all animals.
Land transportation is stopped by rivers. If properly directed, rivers can be used for shipping through machines to serve the use of man.
But tho’ the provinces of the material and animal powers are not kept entirely separate, there result from thence no discord or disorder in the creation:
On the contrary, from the mixture, union, and contrast of all the various powers of inanimate bodies and living creatures, arises that surprizing harmony and proportion, which affords the surest argument of supreme wisdom.
The providence of the deity appears not immediately in any operation, but governs every thing by those general and immutable laws, which have been established from the beginning of time.
All events, in one sense, may be pronounced the action of the almighty: They all proceed from those powers, with which he has endowed his creatures.
A house, which falls by its own weight, is not brought to ruin by his providence more than one destroyed by the hands of men; nor are the human faculties less his workmanship than the laws of motion and gravitation. When the passions play, when the judgment dictates, when the limbs obey; this is all the operation of God; and upon these animate principles, as well as upon the inanimate, has he established the government of the universe.
Every event is alike important in the eyes of that infinite being, who takes in, at one glance, the most distant regions of space and remotest periods of time.
All events follow the general laws that govern the universe.
The revolutions of states and empires depend upon the smallest caprice or passion of single men. The lives of men are shortened or extended by the smallest accident of air or diet, sunshine or tempest.
Nature still continues her progress and operation. If general laws be ever broke by particular volitions of the deity, ’tis after a manner which entirely escapes human observation.
As on the one hand, the elements and other inanimate parts of the creation carry on their action without regard to the particular interest and situation of men; so men are entrusted to their own judgment and discretion in the various shocks of matter, and may employ every faculty, with which they are endowed, in order to provide for their ease, happiness, or preservation.
What is the meaning, then, of that principle, that a man, who, tired of life, and hunted by pain and misery, bravely overcomes all the natural terrors of death, and makes his escape from this cruel scene;
that such a man has incurred the indignation of his creator, by encroaching on the office of divine providence, and disturbing the order of the universe?
Has the Almighty reserved to himself the disposal of the lives of men, and has not submitted that event, in common with others, to the general laws, by which the universe is governed?
This is plainly false.
The lives of men depend on the same laws as the lives of all other animals. These are subjected to the general laws of matter and motion. The fall of a tower or the infusion of a poison will destroy a man and an animal equally.
A flood sweeps away everything without distinction. Since therefore the lives of men are for ever dependent on the general laws of matter and motion; is a man’s disposing of his life criminal, because, in every case, it is criminal to encroach upon these laws, or disturb their operation?
This seems absurd. All animals are entrusted to their own prudence and skill for their conduct in the world.
They have full authority, as far as their power extends, to alter all the operations of nature.
Without the exercise of this authority, they could not subsist a moment.
Every action, every motion of a man innovates in the order of some parts of matter, and diverts, from their ordinary course, the general laws of motion.
Putting together, therefore, these conclusions, we find, that human life depends upon the general laws of matter and motion, and that ’tis no encroachment on the office of providence to disturb or alter these general laws. Has not every one, of consequence, the free disposal of his own life?
may he not lawfully employ that power with which nature has endowed him?
In order to destroy the evidence of this conclusion, we must shew a reason, why this particular case is excepted.
Is it because human life is of so great importance, that it is a presumption for human prudence to dispose of it? But the life of man is of no greater importance to the universe than that of an oyster. And were it of ever so great importance, the order of nature has actually submitted it to human prudence, and reduced us to a necessity, in every incident, of determining concerning it.
Were the disposal of human life so much reserved as the peculiar province of the almighty that it were an encroachment on his right for men to dispose of their own lives; it would be equally criminal to act for the preservation of life as for its destruction. If I turn aside a stone, which is falling upon my head, I disturb the course of nature, I invade the peculiar province of the almighty, by lengthening out my life, beyond the period, which, by the general laws of matter and motion, he had assigned to it.
A hair, a fly, an insect is able to destroy this mighty being, whose life is of such importance. Is it an absurdity to suppose, that human prudence may lawfully dispose of what depends on such insignificant causes?
It would be no crime in me to divert the Nile or Danube from its course, were I able to effect such purposes. Where then is the crime of turning a few ounces of blood from their natural chanels!
Do you imagine that I repine at providence or curse my creation, because I go out of life, and put a period to a being, which, were it to continue, would render me miserable? Far be such sentiments from me.
I am only convinced of a matter of fact, which you yourself acknowledge possible, that human life may be unhappy, and that my existence, if farther prolonged, would become uneligible. But I thank providence, both for the good, which I have already enjoyed, and for the power, with which I am endowed, of escaping the ill that threatens me.3 To you it belongs to repine at providence, who foolishly imagine that you have no such power, and who must still prolong a hated being, tho’ loaded with pain and sickness, with shame and poverty.
Do you not teach, that when any ill befalls me, tho’ by the malice of my enemies, I should be resigned to providence; and that the actions of men are the operations of the almighty as much as the actions of inanimate beings? When I fall upon my own sword, therefore, I receive my death equally from the hands of the deity, as if it had proceeded from a lion, a precipice, or a fever.
The submission, which you require to providence, in every calamity, that befalls me, excludes not human skill and industry; if possibly, by their means, I can avoid or escape the calamity. And why may I not employ one remedy as well as another?
If my life be not my own, it were criminal for me to put it in danger, as well as to dispose of it: Nor could one man deserve the appellation of Hero, whom glory or friendship transports into the greatest dangers, and another merit the reproach of Wretch or Miscreant, who puts a period to his life, from the same or like motives.
There is no being, which possesses any power or faculty, that it receives not from its creator; nor is there any one, which, by ever so irregular an action, can encroach upon the plan of his providence, or disorder the universe. Its operations are his work equally with that chain of events, which it invades; and which ever principle prevails, we may, for that very reason, conclude it to be most favoured by him. Be it animate or inanimate, rational or irrational, ’tis all a case: It’s power is still derived from the supreme creator, and is alike comprehended in the order of his providence. When the horror of pain prevails over the love of life: When a voluntary action anticipates the effect of blind causes; it is only in consequence of those powers and principles, which he has implanted in his creatures. Divine providence is still inviolate, and placed far beyond the reach of human injuries.
It is impious, says the old Roman superstition,4 to divert rivers from their course, or invade the prerogatives of nature. ’Tis impious, says the French superstition, to inoculate for the small-pox, or usurp the business of providence, by voluntarily producing distempers and maladies. ’Tis impious, says the modern European superstition, to put a period to our own life, and thereby rebel against our creator. And why not impious, say I, to build houses, cultivate the ground, and sail upon the ocean? In all these actions, we employ our powers of mind and body to produce some innovation in the course of nature; and in none of them do we any more. They are all of them, therefore, equally innocent or equally criminal.
But you are placed by providence, like a sentinel, in a particular station; and when you desert it, without being recalled, you are guilty of rebellion against your almighty sovereign, and have incurred his displeasure. I ask, why do you conclude, that Providence has placed me in this station?
For my part, I find, that I owe my birth to a long chain of causes, of which many and even the principal, depended upon voluntary actions of men. But Providence guided all these causes, and nothing happens in the universe without its consent and co-operation.
If so, then neither does my death, however voluntary, happen without it’s consent; and whenever pain and sorrow so far overcome my patience as to make me tired of life, I may conclude, that I am recalled from my station, in the clearest and most express terms.
It is providence, surely, that has placed me at present in this chamber: But may I not leave it, when I think proper, without being liable to the imputation of having deserted my post or station?
When I shall be dead, the principles, of which I am composed, will still perform their part in the universe, and will be equally useful in the grand fabric, as when they composed this individual creature. The difference to the whole will be no greater than between my being in a chamber and in the open air. The one change is of more importance to me than the other; but not more so to the universe.
It is a kind of blasphemy to imagine, that any created being can disturb the order of the world, or invade the business of providence. It supposes, that that being possesses powers and faculties, which it received not from its creator, and which are not subordinate to his government and authority. A man may disturb society, no doubt; and thereby incur the displeasure of the almighty:
But the government of the world is placed far beyond his reach and violence. And how does it appear, that the almighty is displeased with those actions, that disturb society? By the principles which he has implanted in human nature, and which inspire us with a sentiment of remorse, if we ourselves have been guilty of such actions, and with that of blame and disapprobation, if we ever observe them in others. Let us now examine, according to the method proposed, whether Suicide be of this kind of actions, and be a breach of our duty to our neighbour and to society.
A man, who retires from life, does no harm to society. He only ceases to do good; which, if it be an injury, is of the lowest kind.
All our obligations to do good to society seem to imply something reciprocal. I receive the benefits of society, and therefore ought to promote it’s interest. But when I withdraw myself altogether from society, can I be bound any longer?
But allowing, that our obligations to do good were perpetual, they have certainly some bounds.
I am not obliged to do a small good to society, at the expence of a great harm to myself. Why then should I prolong a miserable existence, because of some frivolous advantage, which the public may, perhaps, receive from me? If upon account of age and infirmities, I may lawfully resign any office, and employ my time altogether in fencing against these calamities, and alleviating, as much as possible, the miseries of my future life: Why may I not cut short these miseries at once by an action, which is no more prejudicial to society?
But suppose, that it is no longer in my power to promote the interest of the public: Suppose, that I am a burden to it: Suppose, that my life hinders some person from being much more useful to the public.
In such cases, my resignation of life must not only be innocent but laudable. Most suicidal people are in some such situation. Those, who have health, power, or authority, have commonly better reason to be in humour with the world.
A man is engaged in a conspiracy for the public interest; is seized upon suspicion; is threatened with the rack; and knows, from his own weakness, that the secret will be extorted from him: Could such a one consult the public interest better than by putting a quick period to a miserable life? This was the case of the famous and brave Strozzi of Florence.5
Suppose a criminal waas justly condemned to a shameful death. Why can’t he save himself from all the anguish of thinking about the coming exection? He invades the business of providence just as the magistrate did who ordered his execution. His voluntary death is equally advantageous to society, by ridding it of a bad member.
That Suicide may often be consistent with interest and with our duty to ourselves, no one can question, who allows, that age, sickness, or misfortune may render life a burthen, and make it worse even than annihilation.
No man ever threw away life, while it was worth keeping. For such is our natural horror of death, that small motives will never be able to reconcile us to it.
The situation of a man’s health or fortune did not need this remedy. Anyone, who kills himself without apparent reason was cursed with such an incurable depravity or gloominess which poisoned all enjoyment and render him equally miserable as if he had been loaded with the most grievous misfortunes.
If Suicide is a crime, then only cowardice can impel us to it. If it is not a crime, then our prudence and courage will make us kill ourselves immedately when life becomes a burden.
’Tis the only way, that we can then be useful to society, by setting an example, which, if imitated, would preserve to every one his chance for happiness in life, and would effectually free him from all danger of misery.