Death Becomes Us by Lucy Boyle
We’re afraid of death. Lucy Boyle examines why.
Six Feet Under made death sexy. If Rachel Griffith could get off in a funeral parlour then hell, maybe death wasn’t that big a deal. Maybe dead bodies weren’t going to hop off tables and chase us into the night. Maybe, just maybe, death didn’t need to be hidden.
Six Feet Under challenged our perception of the funeral industry and the people who worked in it. Suddenly, we had to think about those that dealt with the dead. Suddenly, funeral directors were considered normal people; people who had relationships, problems, midlife crises and affairs.
On top of that, people had to contemplate what happened to the body after a person had died. They were forced to see the process; the mundane organising that took place, the flowers, make-up.
However, as young folk it was easy to observe it all with a sense of superiority. It was wonderful to be able to sit back and say ‘Heck, that sucks – but I’m young, sprightly and fit. I ain’t going nowhere.’ And maybe that is why we struggle so much when someone we know dies. Someone just like us - young, sprightly and fit.
When I found myself in this situation I began to wonder how I had managed to get through 21 years of life without seriously contemplating death. I’m not talking about a existential, ‘we all die and why did no one tell me’ panic. Rather, how did I get this far into life without being exposed to death – to bodies and grief?
An explanation can potentially be found by examining the society we live in. The majority of deaths in Australia are dealt with in a private and restrained manner. The body is removed by professionals, cleaned up by professionals and then disposed of by them. All we are asked to do is pick up the tab at the end.
I interviewed Chris Lee, who has been a funeral director for the past 35 years. His family business is currently based on the Northern Beaches and the majority of funerals he arranges are for Christians.
When I spoke to him about the level of involvement families wish to have in the funeral process, he said that most chose to have him deal with arrangements. Indeed he said that most people opted not to have an open casket, preferring not to see the dead body at all.
“It depends on the circumstances, but people will usually only have an open casket if the death was sudden or unexpected. When they feel they haven’t said goodbye.”
It is possible to attribute this behaviour to the Christian belief that the soul (the essence of an individual) leaves the body after death and thus the body is not the ‘person’ that the family loved.
The only time I have ever been exposed to death was whilst travelling in India. Bodies were carried past us on the shoulders of relatives. They were burned on the funeral pyre and the families collected the ash in plain sight. These practices contrast starkly to our own detached and restrained farewells.
Hindus, like Christians, believe that the ‘soul’ leaves the body after death. However, the family are heavily involved in the disposal of the body and view it as an important process.
Lesley Branagan is an Australian journalist who has travelled extensively in India. In 2006 she spent 4 months in India researching for an ABC radio program. She spent a substantial part of her time in Varanasi observing the death rituals associated with Hinduism.
India’s death rituals are heavily based around the ancient city of Varanasi. Lesley described Varanasi as “the cradle hold of Hinduism. If you are Hindu is it the most auspicious place in India to visit…it is also regarded as the most auspicious place to die.”
Varanasi lies on the Ganges, which is India’s main river. It is affectionately known in India as the Mother Ganga and is believed to be pure, despite sewerage and bodies being disposed of in the river.
I have visited Varanasi and it is most certainly the city of death. There are 2 ghats (stairs on the river) devoted purely to the cremation of bodies. You find yourself lost in the narrow streets of the town, surrounded by sacred cows and hawkers, only to stumble out into the open to the sight of burning bodies.
The ghats burn twenty four hours a day and can have as many as ten or so bodies burning at any time. A flat viewing platform sits above the ghats. From here you can view the bodies, the river and the ceremony.
Unlike Western culture, the family are integral to the cremation. The entire family is involved in the process and whilst a priest is employed to bless the body it is the family who bear the responsibility for washing the corpse, covering it in ghee and cloth and eventually, lighting the funeral pyre. After three or more hours of flames, it is the family who pick up the ashes and carefully distribute them in the Ganga.
Hindus are heavily involved in the destruction of the body, despite their belief that the soul has left it. Why then do we Australians try to remove ourselves from being involved in the burial process?
Do we choose to outsource death because we can afford to? It is a luxury that we are afforded as a result of our economics prosperity?
Death is big business in Australia. In Funeral Rights – What The Australian “Death Care” Industry Doesn’t Want You To Know (2007), author Robert Larkins reports that the average costs in Australia are $4000 -$7000 for a cremation and $8000-$12,000 for a burial. For the average Australian family earning $50,000 a year, this is a sizeable expense.
Robert Larkins suggests in his book that these high prices reflect our fear of death: “We have become scared of death. We are uncomfortable with it. As a result, funeral directors have been able to gain total control of the process."
Whilst there are definitely problems with the funeral industry and its profit incentives, death is an expensive matter regardless. Because of laws governing the disposal of a body, at the bare minimum you still have to pay for a casket, hearse and funeral director.
Surprisingly, death is a money industry in India also. Indians prefer to be burned on the banks of the river Ganges and thus a premium is charged for the honour. A cremation costs between $50-$70 depending on the type and quantity of wood used.
Whilst like this seems like a small amount compared to the thousands of dollars paid by Australians, in a country where over a quarter of the population live on less that forty US cents a day, the costs are comparable.
On top of this, priests have to be paid and they will try to milk the situation for all its worth. When I spoke to Lesley she recounted a story about her friend arranging his fathers funeral. The priests on the bank of the river attempted to scam his mother and him into paying for a plethora of elaborate and unnecessary rituals.
However, cheap ‘electric ghats’, or giant cremation buildings, do exist. Lesley stated that “[the electric cremation] is only for the very very poor and lonely people. People who have died on the street and no family have claimed them.” Indeed “even the poorest will try to scrape together the money to have a priest perform some of the rituals on the ghat and have a funeral pyre.”
In Australia, it is becoming increasing common for individuals to pay for their funeral in advance. Chris Lee believed that this was “to ease the burden on the family, the people who were left behind.” In India no such phenomeon has occurred.
Despite the cost associated with funerals, both societies seem them as not only necessary but spiritually important. Families in both societies are willing to pay large sums of money to farewell their family in the ‘proper way’.
Interestingly, whilst Australians may be scared of the dead, it appears they view those who work with the dead no differently. Chris Lee claimed that most people joked when he told them of his professional and treated him like “a normal person.” He believed that there wasn’t a social stigma associated with the profession, but rather a respect for the work he performed.
This contrasts significantly with India, where working on the pyres is the work of the low caste or the “untouchables”. They are seen to be “not just biologically polluting but also ritually polluting.” So whilst Indians are happy to be involved in the funeral process, to make your money from the dead is seen as impure. In Western societies, we have no problem with people who make their money from the dead provided it means we don’t have to deal with it. It’s an interesting dichotomy that probably implies more about the Indian caste system than religious beliefs.
We still have this unresolved question - why is there such a fear of and detachment from death in Australia?
The simplest answer is that it is what we are used to.
In Australia we don’t witness death particularly often, whilst in India death is part of everyday life. Infant mortality is still high and the death of children and young adults is markedly more frequent.
In Australia most people don’t die till they are 70 or 80 and most early deaths are associated with terminal illness. We have a low infant mortality rate and a long life expectancy. We have developed to the extent that death is no longer a constant threat and thus we fear it even more. We see it as a bad omen and dead people as potentially contagious.
In India death is still part of every day life as oppose to a shadow that falls occasionally. As a result Indians have embraced death. They have accepted it as a normal part of their existence.
AGHORIs
Indian’s are more comfortable with death but there are some limits. Consuming human flesh, urine or faeces is going a little too far. So it drinking or eating meat.
The Aghori are one religious sect who deliberately challenge these limits.
Aghori means non-terrifying in sanskript, and some believe that this refers to how the members of the sect view death.
Their tradition dates back to the 14th century. They believe that humans are mired by dualistic thinking; good or bad, clean or dirty. They perceive this thinking as a socialisation of the mind that prevents individuals from recognising the divine.
Lesley Branagan spent several months researching this sect and talking to members of it. I spoke to her about the Aghoris and their interaction with the dead.
“They are sort of like extreme Sadhus, with the crazy long hair and pot. These guys take it further and smear themselves in cremation ash and carry skulls and tridents and then consume urine and alcohol.”
Aghoris loiter around the cremation ghats, stealing skulls and bones when the family are preoccupied and not watching. They believe that by associating with these polluting and decaying substances they are able to achieve enlightenment. Whilst Hindus aim for enlightenment after death, Aghori’s believe in enlightenment in this lifetime.
One of the Aghori lineages has recently reformed. They still employ the method of having contact with decaying and polluting substances, but they use it for a social purpose. They run leprosy clinics, schools and ashrams throughout India. Many high flying Indians are joining this reformed lineage, including a past Indian prime minister if the rumour mill is to be believed.
This reformed lineage is having a positive impact on the perception of this sect in India.