The Venerable Yifa \u2014 a Taiwanese Buddhist nun, scholar, and writer \u2014 and her educational nonprofit, the Woodenfish Foundation, recently invited me to Taiwan to talk with Buddhist nuns and monks about how gene editing may affect the future practice of Buddhism. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
This trip was the first time I\u2019d really delved deeply into Buddhist philosophy, and I came to understand something astounding: Buddhists aren’t trying to live as long as possible or make it to an afterlife like many people in Western culture. They are essentially trying to end a cycle of reincarnation and suffering \u2014 and cease to exist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Immortality isn\u2019t progress. It\u2019s paralysis.<\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n\n\n\n I\u2019m not a believer in the modern longevity movement. While there are serious scientists studying how to extend healthspan or delay aging, much of it seems more like a religion than a scientific initiative. The figureheads tout data-based legitimacy while shilling questionable supplements on the side. Still, it came as a shock to me that not all cultures view death as, at the very least, something to avoid. I\u2019ve long been skeptical of the longevity movement, but I now see the West\u2019s general mission in life \u2014 to live as long as possible with the best health possible \u2014 as a narrow-minded view of what it means to live well. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The other day, I texted the Venerable Shi Daofu, my Buddhist nun bestie whom I met in Taiwan, and asked if she feared death. She responded, \u201cI am not very afraid of death. Because birth, old age, illness, and death are the inevitable processes of life.\u201d So simple, and yet many people have so much trouble comprehending this point of view. Billionaires fund longevity startups. Biohackers chase cellular youth. Headlines speak of reversing aging, defeating death, living forever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But immortality is a dangerous fantasy. It sounds like salvation, but it’s just another form of control. A refusal to let go. A denial of the very conditions that make life work. Dead dinosaurs became the oil that powers our machines. Without dead microbes and plants to enrich our soil, we wouldn’t be able to grow crops. Our immune systems rely on programmed cellular death to protect us. The elements we\u2019re made of \u2014 carbon, iron, gold \u2014 only exist because ancient stars exploded and died. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Death is not a flaw in the system \u2014 it is the system.<\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n\n\n\n Immortality isn\u2019t progress. It\u2019s paralysis. Without death, things would never evolve, never adapt, never give rise to the beauty we experience. There is a saying: \u201cScience advances one funeral at a time\u201d \u2014 but it’s not just science. It\u2019s art, philosophy, and life itself. The complex interactions that built our planet and filled our world with oxygen, CO2<\/sub>, flowers, and fruit should not be so easily discarded.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n We are here because of death. It\u2019s not a flaw in the system \u2014 it is the system. And yet, in the rush to extend life indefinitely, that truth is often ignored. If we can’t think more deeply about death, we may create more problems than solutions for future generations by disrupting the natural cycle of life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Even in the most mechanical view of the universe, death still feels like it means something. It moves atheists to tears, evokes reverence from physicists, and inspires awe in biologists. What if death isn\u2019t a defect to be fixed, but the foundation on which everything else rests? Maybe the question isn\u2019t \u201cWhat\u2019s the meaning of life?\u201d but \u201cWhy does life end?\u201d And maybe the answer is because the ending is also the beginning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n