You probably think your options after death
are basically just burial, or cremation.
But what if you, with your buddy John Stuart
Mill, co-founded utilitarianism?
And as a utilitarian you believe that when
it comes to issues of morality, sentience
– the ability to feel pleasure and pain
– is really all that matters.
The only way to cause harm is to cause pain
and since corpses can’t feel pain, dead
bodies aren’t deserving of moral consideration.
Now, you might think that, by that logic,
your body can just get dumped in a ditch.
Or, maybe somewhere a bit more sanitary.
It doesn’t really matter - the dead don’t
deserve consideration because it’s awful
hard to harm them.
But also, as a utilitarian, you want to produce
the greatest good for the greatest number
of people.
And, for Jeremy Bentham, apparently the best
way to do that after death was to have
your dead body put in a glass cabinet at the
University College London for, as of this
recording, more than one hundred and eighty
five years.
Just sticking his corpse into the ground would
have been wasteful – of no help to anyone,
except a lot of microbes.
Reportedly, in the last decade or so of his
life, Bentham became fixated on how to be
as useful as possible, even in death.
And so, he left meticulous instructions in
his will, specifying that his body be given
to a “dear friend of his” to see his plans
through.
Bentham requested that his head be preserved
according to a mummification process said
to have been used by the Maori people of New
Zealand.
He asked that his body be dissected for educational
purposes – a practice that was illegal at
the time – so that others could learn from
it.
And once all possible use had been obtained
from what he called his “soft parts,”
he asked that his bones and head be displayed
as what he called an “Auto-Icon,” a powerful
reminder of the values he stood for in life.
This way, even though he wasn’t able to
continue spreading his beliefs through teaching
in the classroom, generations of students
would still learn about Bentham and what he
believed from his public skelton.
In the end, Bentham got his wish, more or
less.
185 years after his death, his corpse stands
in his old black suit in that glass cabinet,
creeping out visitors.
The mummification of his head was something
of a failure, leaving it in such a gruesome
state that it wasn’t returned to his body;
instead, a wax replica was affixed to his
neck.
But his head has nonetheless provided some
useful lessons.
Bentham’s dessicated skull used to sit near
his body.
But it was repeatedly stolen by students who,
in true utilitarian fashion, demanded ransom
money, to be donated to a charity, for its
safe return.
So now, Bentham’s head is only available
for viewing by special arrangement.
In addition to spinning a wild and intriguing
tale, Bentham’s decision, and his friend’s
willingness to carry it out, show true dedication
living and dying according to philosophical
principles.
Bentham cared little about social acceptability,
but he cared a great deal about what he believed
to be right.
Which is somewhat ironic as, legend has it,
he is sometimes brought into university meetings
where he is noted in the attendance records
as “Jeremy Bentham, present, but not voting.”
