Mortality’s Ancient Surprise

American Politics Discovers Old Age and Death

Prince Siddhartha Gautama encounters, from right to left, a corpse, a sick person, and President Joe Biden. Source: Wellcome Collection

“Death is an old jest but it comes new to everyone.” So writes Ivan Turgenev in the classic Russian novel Fathers and Sons. The July 13 assassination attempt on Donald Trump, in which a bullet grazed the former president’s ear, is a vivid reminder of the closeness of death’s scythe. And as with death, so with its accomplices, sickness and old age. We know that they exist and will affect us eventually, but “eventually” comes to mean “forever from now” until they’re suddenly here. In Buddhist tradition, Siddhartha Gautama lived the sheltered life of a prince until he was exposed to the inevitable tragedies of mortality: an old man, signifying aging; a sick person, signifying disease; and a corpse, signifying death. Finally, he encountered a monk, signifying the search for the truth behind our suffering. These Four Sights led Gautama to renounce his life of luxury and follow the path to enlightenment, culminating in his ascension to Buddha (“Awakened One”) status.

Clearly, the Democratic Party has not absorbed much literary or spiritual wisdom. After President Joe (“Sleepy One”) Biden’s disastrous June 27 debate performance, which revealed his senescence as clearly as one of the Buddha’s Four Sights, The New York Times reported that the Democrats have “an 81-year-old candidate and no Plan B.” Apparently, no one in his brain trust “described a meeting or a memo that outlined pros and cons of a re-election campaign that might have addressed the consequences of age.” No adviser “said they discouraged him from running or, for that matter, discussed how to address his age if he did.” The Biden campaign was as blind to harsh reality as princely young Gautama. Their candidate was presumed immune from the sorrows of existence—aging, sickness, and death—until proven otherwise.

In 2020, when he was selected as the oldest presidential nominee in American history, Biden was 77. Biostatistics would indicate he’d be an even older 82 by the end of his first term and a very old 86 by the end of his second. Yet his vice-presidential nominee was not chosen with mortality, and the possibility of succession, top of mind. Instead, as former Senate majority leader Harry Reid said, “Biden came to the conclusion that he should pick a Black woman” because “the Black women of America deserved a Black vice-presidential candidate.” According to the Times, Biden discounted Michigan governor Gretchen Whitmer, who is now touted as an ideal replacement for him, to avoid having “an all-white ticket.” Instead, Biden picked Kamala Harris, who withdrew before the Democratic presidential primaries as her campaign imploded, but who brought the necessary racial diversity.

As a result of Biden choosing an unpopular political failure as a running mate, the Democrats now face a dilemma. As summarized in The Atlantic, “Most Democrats who want to replace Biden also remain extremely dubious that his incumbent running mate, Kamala Harris, could beat Trump—but if she sought the nomination, then denying that prize to the first woman of color who has served as vice president could tear apart the party.” It would be easy (and correct) to criticize Democrats for the short-sightedness that led to an existential crisis of their own making. But we should also have the humility to ask ourselves: Are we, on an individual level, so different? Do we, like the Biden campaign, ignore the inevitability of aging, sickness, and death until it’s too late? Will our life choices, however expedient in the moment, end up as regrettable as the selection of Kamala Harris as vice president?

Consider the succession question. One basic reason to have children is to ensure we are loved and cared for when we get old and sick. Our children will also remember us when we are dead (fondly, we hope) and are our best chance of leaving a legacy. Yet birth rates are plummeting below replacement levels, particularly in high-income countries. Many of us approach the inevitability of our decline and demise with the same fecklessness as the Democrats. We forgo having children because of the short-term opportunity costs. But in the long run, we increase our probability of aging in isolation and dying forgotten. When our jaws slacken, our eyes dim, and our words fail, do we want to be surrounded by sympathetic loved ones? Or do we want to be alone face-to-face with the menacing orange specter of our own mortality? The failure of our minds and bodies is inevitable. But our failure to account for the inevitable is a choice, even if it’s one we blindly shuffle into like a CNN presidential debate.

The Democrats may be doomed to defeat for their inability to recognize what the Buddha saw 2500 years ago. But the revelation of their poor planning, and Trump’s subsequent close shave by the reaper, should serve as a memento mori for the rest of us. Death, aging, and sickness are old jests, so they need not come to us by surprise. Some Buddhists meditate next to corpses as a reminder of the impermanence of existence. We need not go that far, but we can act with more foresight than much of America’s political establishment. Make the most of youth but accept its transience, as “to everything there is a season.” Have children and care for them because it is intrinsically good, but also because you’ll need to be cared for in turn. Retire in dignity and pass the torch gracefully, lest you tarnish your memory and be forced out in shame. And when death does come whizzing by, as it invariably will, don’t just duck and hide. Stand tall, maintain composure, and fight, fight, fight against the dying of the light. The bell doesn’t just toll for the Democrats’ political chances; it tolls for thee.