Unnatural Death by Ashkan Honarvar (2015)
Ultimately, to have done with the judgement of God means refusing to accept what medical professionals like to describe as death by natural causes. Which is to say, the all-too-predictable kind of death that results from illness, old age, or an internal malfunction of the body and its organs.
One should - as a philosopher and anti-theist - always desire and seek out the opposite of this; i.e., the joy of an unnatural death, be it by accident, misadventure, homicide, suicide, or that mysterious non-category that is undetermined and which, for those enigmatic individuals who pride themselves on their ambiguity, must surely be the way to go.
Personally, I have always quite fancied the idea of being executed. It's not that I particularly want to be hanged, guillotined, gassed, electrocuted, given a lethal injection, or shot at dawn, but I do like the thought of enjoying a last meal before then facing an audience before whom one can display the noble virtues as I understand them; irony, indifference, and insouciance.
I would like, in other words, to go to my death with the cool courage and stoicism of the dandy - and a ready quip on my lips that might cause even my executioner to smile (and serve also to annoy the po-faced authorities who demand seriousness and expect contrition in such circumstances).
In a famous essay from 1927, Freud theorised gallows humour thusly:
"The ego refuses to be distressed by the provocations of reality, to let itself be compelled to suffer. It insists that it cannot be affected by the traumas of the external world; it shows, in fact, that such traumas are no more than occasions for it to gain pleasure."
There are many examples; William Palmer, the notorious nineteenth-century murderer known as the Prince of Poisoners, is said to have climbed the gallows and placed a foot tentatively on the trapdoor before enquiring of the hangman: 'Is it safe?'
But I think my favourite story concerns Mussolini who, about to be shot by communist partisans, asked them to aim at his heart - before turning his face to one side and adding 'Don't ruin the profile.'
But I think my favourite story concerns Mussolini who, about to be shot by communist partisans, asked them to aim at his heart - before turning his face to one side and adding 'Don't ruin the profile.'
