Death and the Meaning of Life in Kierkegaard’s Existential Philosophy
By Sophie Höfer & Adam Buben
Radboud University Nijmegen & Leiden University. March 19, 2025.
Perhaps the most unsettling thing to think about is one’s own death. None of us enjoy considering the fact that, one day, we (and eventually everything we have ever cared about) simply won’t be around anymore. Not only do we dislike thinking about death—we seem to be almost incapable of properly wrapping our head around it. And how could we grasp the idea of non-existence, when we only ever experience the world from the perspective of an existing being? Reflecting on our mortality is like trying to make sense of the idea of an infinitely expanding universe—dizzying, overwhelming, and anxiety-inducing. Given that thinking about death seems to be dreadful at worst and impossible at best, why concern ourselves with our mortality at all? Why not just ignore our impending doom and live as though death wasn’t inevitably awaiting us?
Left: Kierkegaard’s discourse “At a Graveside” (1845), can be found in Hong and Hong’s 1993 collection Three discourses on imagined occasions. Right: Kierkegaard (1902), by Luplau Janssen.
Throughout history, philosophers have dealt with the problem of death in radically different ways. An approach of indifference was advocated by Hellenistic philosopher Epicurus, who famously stated that death is “nothing to us; since when we exist, death is not yet present, and when death is present, then we do not exist” (Epicurus, 1994, section 125). Death is an event that will never concern me, as I won’t be around to experience it when it happens. But not everyone is satisfied with this seemingly simple and clean solution to an issue that, after all, has grave existential significance. In 19th-century Denmark, Søren Kierkegaard, commonly referred to as the “father of existentialism,” fervently argued that a thorough engagement with one’s own death is indispensable for those of us who strive for an honest—or authentic—existence. His many-faceted and insightful views on how to live in confrontation with death, as articulated in his discourse “At a Graveside” (1845), will be the focus of our article.
But before we dive into the subject matter, a short disclaimer: as philosophers, we (Sophie and Adam) have different approaches and research methodologies than scientists working in the field of (existential) psychology. Conducting experiments or analyzing data sets is not part of our everyday activities as researchers—rather, we spend our time browsing dusty books (or at least the smudgy PDF versions) and interpreting philosophical texts relevant to our current research interests. We consider these texts from a historical point of view, where we contextualize them within various traditions and schools, but we also make an effort to extract insights that are still relevant for us today. Accordingly, our goal in this brief article is to provide an introduction to Kierkegaard’s very fruitful treatment of death to people working in existential psychology, especially those with no background in philosophy. We hope our overview will encourage psychologists to get acquainted with Kierkegaard’s views on death and his philosophy more broadly, possibly stumbling upon meaningful insights that could contribute to the field of existential psychology.
“Søren Kierkegaard, commonly referred to as the “father of existentialism,” fervently argued that a thorough engagement with one’s own death is indispensable for those of us who strive for an honest—or authentic—existence.”
Objective vs. Subjective Approaches to Death
First, some basics about Kierkegaard. Like many of the later so-called “existentialists” he inspires, Kierkegaard thinks humans are not born selves or subjects in any meaningful sense. Rather, authentic subjectivity is something we must work at throughout our lives—it is a task. In order to begin this task, there are certain fundamental aspects of the human condition we need to take seriously. And what could be more fundamental than the one thing we all have in common, regardless of our differences—the fact that one day we are not going to be around any more? Unlike Epicurus, Kierkegaard insists on the necessity of grappling with our mortality while we’re still in the midst of life. But how should we go about this; what is the right way to think about death?
The objective facts of death—life expectancy or knowledge about how to prolong or end lives—cannot capture the subjective experience of the human awareness of mortality.
To start with, Kierkegaard thinks we should take on a subjective relation to our own deaths. Any objective, factual, and speculative knowledge of death is insufficient if we want to grasp what death actually means. Ordinarily, we might claim to know a great deal about death: for instance, we know that death can come in an instant or stretch out over months, that on average women die older than men, that Kurt Cobain committed suicide, that capital punishment remains a controversial issue, and so on. And if we are medical experts of some sort, we might claim to know even more than the average person: we can identify various stages in the dying process, postpone someone’s immanent death through life-sustaining measures, or cause somebody’s premature death in a euthanasia procedure. However, according to Kierkegaard, none of this factual knowledge can explain what is actually at stake in the question of death. Any general understanding we may have about death is irrelevant to the difficult existential struggle with one’s own mortality for which Kierkegaard advocates. A subjective engagement with my own death as the end of my very particular existence just cannot be captured in objective abstractions and generalizations. But how exactly can we achieve such a subjective, existential understanding of death? With these doubts about objective approaches to death in mind, it will be easier to first consider how not to think about death.
Not Giving Death Its Due
A sharp-eyed inspector of the human psyche, Kierkegaard doesn’t fail to notice the varied strategies we employ in trying to make the thought of death more bearable. Most of us tend to steer clear of the unsettling idea of death altogether, and when we do contemplate it, we often reduce it to a merely necessary aspect of biological life, indifferently “accepting” it as the price we all have to pay for being alive. In this way, we manage to keep death at a comfortable and safe distance from our individual existence. Our tendency to evade thinking about our own mortality has basically no limits: we deny it even in moments when we are forcefully confronted with it, such as when we hear about the deaths of others like us or undergo a near-death experience ourselves.
Kierkegaard refers to these psychological traps we fall into as moods. Moods usually contain a self-deceptive element that we use to mitigate the unsettling impact contemplating death can have on our lives. Kierkegaard’s discussion of moods covers a wide range of inappropriate, ineffective, inaccurate, and dishonest ways of thinking about and approaching death, but some of the most important examples seem to fall into the category psychologists and social scientists talk about in terms of the denial of death awareness. In this sort of denial, we distract ourselves from thoughts of death or try to minimize its terror by telling ourselves some comforting story about how it isn’t really so definitive after all.
Among the moods Kierkegaard identifies, there seem to be a couple of prominent ones people regularly rely on to avoid confronting their own mortality. The first, as we have seen, involves swapping a subjective, existential, and personal appropriation of death for an objective or detached understanding of it. The second involves our tendency to postpone dealing with our mortality, believing there will always be more time later. “Even in the moment of death,” Kierkegaard sharply observes, “the dying person thinks that he still might have some time to live” (Kierkegaard, 1845, p. 79). But these are hardly the only ways we fail to be honest with ourselves about our own mortality and thereby end up living frivolous, unreflective, and superficial lives. Kierkegaard also notes that individuals who are going through a rough time or are particularly sensitive to life’s pains often tell themselves that death does not sound so bad in comparison with the trials and tribulations of life. Just like approaching mortality merely from an objective standpoint or ignoring it altogether, this kind of self-pitying deception is a clear sign that one is denying oneself a proper life-changing death awareness—that, in Kierkegaard’s terms, one is not thinking earnestly about death.
Earnestly Engaging with Death
Having considered the various misguided ways in which we deal with our mortality, we can now take a look at what Kierkegaard thinks is a more worthwhile approach to death. According to him, the aforementioned moods prevent us from cultivating meaningful selfhood and deprive us of the advantages of relating ourselves to death in the right way. A genuine and constant confrontation with our own mortality is essential for steering clear of a shallow triviality and for maintaining awareness of how we live our lives. In order to allow death to have a meaningful impact on each of our lives, each individual needs to be shaken out of self-deceptive indifference and instead become aware of one’s own death as an inescapable truth about one’s own existence.
Thinking about death should be a “roar of awakening”—a motivating force that stimulates the development of a meaningful selfhood and drives us to take action in life.
The key idea is that each of us must internalize the fact of our own mortality in such a way that we start to comprehend ourselves through the lens of our impending deaths. With a sideswipe at Epicurus, Kierkegaard tells his reader to approach death in such a way “that you are and death also is”—and thus pushes us to think about death as my own condition (Kierkegaard, 1845, p. 75). However, we shouldn’t misunderstand Kierkegaard’s call to reflect on one’s own mortality as advocating a melancholic, gloomy preoccupation with death in which we paint our nails black and start hanging out in graveyards while listening to depressing emo music. Rather, thinking about death should be seen as a motivating force that drives us to take action in life.
In order to approach death earnestly, Kierkegaard suggests that each of us needs to think death into every moment of life. Dwelling on it only occasionally when some outside event—for instance, attending a funeral—reminds us of the general transience of life is equivalent to not thinking about it at all. Mourning a loved one, witnessing a disaster with casualties, or enduring the everyday realities of war—however shattering and devastating these experiences may be—do not constitute an earnest encounter with death on their own. While such things may cause pain and sorrow, earnestly reflecting on one’s mortality is not a temporally limited emotional reaction to an external event, but rather a constant internal activity to which the subjective person must commit their whole way of being. If we think earnestly about death, it should profoundly transform the way we go about our lives.
The (Un)Certainty of Death
So, what are some of the lessons an earnest engagement with death should teach us? One of the insights prompted by earnestness is death’s certain uncertainty. Although even the biggest deniers probably have some sense that death awaits us, the specifics of when and how it will occur remain uncertain. This uncertainty implies that we should use our time thoughtfully, as we may not have much of it remaining. While we might rely on statistical probabilities related to age and health to reassure ourselves that death is still a ways off, the feeling of safety we derive from such calculative reasoning is illusory and fundamentally misleading—it is a mood. We can’t be certain that death will come when we expect it to, and it’s a delusion to believe we can postpone grappling with our own mortality because of this expectation.
Death’s (un)certain nature should lead us to see everything we are doing in our lives in light of the fact that death could at any point put a sudden end to our activities. This fact should unsettle us and alert us to the importance of doing the things we can right now. We should understand that when we die, “all is over”—but simultaneously realize that this moment has not yet arrived, and that therefore “all is not over” yet (Kierkegaard, 1845, p. 85). As long as we are still alive, it is up to us to make something of our remaining time, and it is urgent because we do not know how much we have to work with. Once we realize that time is a scarce resource, every moment, no matter how short, becomes infinitely valuable to us. Kierkegaard claims this awareness helps us overcome our all-too-human tendency to procrastinate or postpone important things in life. In thinking earnestly about death, each of us will recognize that there’s no time to waste and immediately turn towards action.
Living with the Thought of Death
But what exactly are the important things we should be doing? Once we have grasped, fully grasped, that we won’t be around forever, how can we best make use of our remaining time on earth? Things get a little trickier from here. Aside from a few scattered mentions of an ethical-religious existence, Kierkegaard does not posit a clear definition of what a meaningful life entails. Rather, he emphasizes the negative or disruptive aspect of earnestly contemplating death: death highlights—and shakes us out of—our trivial preoccupations with inessential activities related to our daily existences.
Thus, the guidance we get from Kierkegaard in “At a Graveside” is basically void of content, and this is typical of existentialism, which usually prioritizes the way in which we go about our actions rather than the nature of these actions themselves. It is about the how, not the what. This explains why earnestness, subjectivity, and related non-Kierkegaardian concepts like authenticity seem compatible with different attitudes and worldviews. The key takeaway is that an earnest relation to mortality can pull each of us out of a thoughtless existence and help us focus on what is more fundamental for imbuing life with meaning, instead of on the inessential and insignificant specific activities we get caught up in absentmindedly or uncritically. An earnest reflection on death always brings us back to our subjectivity and continuing self-cultivation, encouraging us to critically examine our actions and the ways we go about them.
One lesson we learn from reflecting on death’s certain uncertainty is that we can never depend on having enough time to complete the activities we are engaged in. As we have seen, death could at any moment barge in on us. Thus, our emphasis shouldn’t lie on which specific projects we mean to complete. Instead, we should each dedicate ourselves to activities that are intrinsically worthwhile, even if they can’t be finished, and shift our attention from the content of these activities to the (not so time-dependent) manner in which we go about them (again—the how, not the what). Choosing and performing tasks that are valuable regardless of whether or not they are completed is what brings true meaning to our lives. But, of course, the nature of these tasks seems to vary according to individual interests, which means that an earnest awareness of one’s own mortality might teach different people very different lessons about what, specifically, they should be doing.
Nonetheless, contrary to some popular misconceptions about existentialism’s supposed fixation on mortality, genuine earnestness does not lead to a nihilistic-hedonistic “seize the day”-mentality focused solely on maximizing immediate pleasures. Rather, the constant presence of death in one’s life serves as a continuous reminder to self-reflect and take personal responsibility for oneself and the significance of one’s choices and actions. For Kierkegaard, one must first confront one’s own mortality, and the fact that in death all will be over, in order to live in the deepest meaning of the word
Conclusion
As we hope to have conveyed in this brief overview, Kierkegaard puts forward a fascinating treatment of various attitudes towards death, as well as a compelling account of what a meaningful engagement with one’s mortality would look like. In greater detail than we could hope to cover in such a short piece, Kierkegaard offers valuable insights into issues we believe are of interest to the discipline of existential psychology, such as subjectivity, the human condition, authenticity, meaning, choice, and responsibility. We hope some curious psychologists feel inspired to take a deeper dive into the world of this brilliant student of human existence. 180 years after its publication, “At a Graveside” is as relevant today as ever. Kierkegaard’s argument that the meaning of our existence is something each of us has to arrive at through our own earnest engagement with mortality, that it has no fixed content, and that we can’t just rely on others’ opinions but actually need to think for ourselves is extremely compelling in our present age. Contrary to what some patronizing life-coaches, influencers, or self-help authors might have us believe, the meaning of one’s life does not depend on following a rigorous set of principles, internalizing a specific set of beliefs, developing particular habits, or practicing certain techniques and strategies. And it definitely does not rely on the purchase of some trendy “wellness” product or service (e.g. a habit tracking app or a personal development course). Kierkegaard’s account is an acknowledgement of our essential (albeit finite) freedom and capacity for self-determination as human beings. His ideas offer a refreshingly humanistic contribution to current discourse on life’s meaning.
Sophie Höfer has studied philosophy in Leiden, Rotterdam, and Leuven, and is currently a PhD candidate at Radboud University Nijmegen. Her dissertation focusses on the concept of alienation in German philosophical anthropology. Other research interests include existential philosophy, critical theory, and Russian philosophy and literature. She has published articles in Kierkegaard Studies Yearbook and International Journal of Kierkegaard Research.
Adam Buben received his PhD in philosophy in 2011 from the University of South Florida, where he was a Presidential Doctoral Fellow. He has also been a Fulbright Fellow at the University of Copenhagen and a House Foundation Fellow at the Hong Kierkegaard Library (St. Olaf College, Minnesota). He is currently a University Lecturer 1 in philosophy at Leiden University in the Netherlands. His research focuses on existentialism, death in the history of philosophy across various traditions, and the intersection of death and issues related to emerging technologies. He is the author of two books—Existentialism and the Desirability of Immortality (2022) and Meaning and Mortality in Kierkegaard and Heidegger (2016)—and is currently engaged in an Australian Research Council grant project on “Digital Death and Immortality.”