If We Truly Believed in Death, We Would Not Have Wronged Anyone

'Man is mortal, but we do not believe it. If we believed, we could not commit malafides'. This seemingly simple reflection opens a deep moral inquiry. Though death is a universal truth, our behavior often reflects the opposite. We live, act, and plan as if death does not apply to us - or at least not anytime soon. We chase power, lie, exploit others, betray public trust, and indulge in greed with the confidence of immortality. But what if we truly internalized the inevitability of our end? What would it mean for our ethics, our choices, and our society?

Despite having intelligence and the ability to reflect, humans develop a powerful psychological denial of death. From childhood, we are exposed to the idea that everyone dies, but we construct emotional defenses against it. We surround ourselves with noise, ambition, pleasure, and distractions. We pursue material success, prestige, and influence as if life will never end. This denial of death is not just personal - it becomes systemic. It allows room for injustice, corruption, and abuse of power to flourish because we act as though consequences are far away or avoidable.

Malafide behavior, which involves acting with bad faith or dishonest intentions, is rooted in this denial. It’s hard to imagine someone lying, stealing, or exploiting others while sincerely believing that one day they will die and be remembered only by their actions. The very idea of mala fides assumes short-term thinking, where ethical boundaries can be crossed for immediate gain. This mindset depends on forgetting, or refusing to believe, that the clock is ticking and that every action will be weighed - if not by courts, then by conscience or history.

Yet all major faiths, philosophies, and moral traditions emphasize the same basic truth: death is certain, and our actions matter. The Qur’an says, 'Every soul shall taste death'. 

The Bible warns, 'For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return'. The Bhagavad Gita teaches that the body dies, but the soul carries forward its karma. Whether through divine judgment or legacy on earth, there is a reckoning. But in modern times, this reckoning feels distant, almost optional. Our culture emphasizes productivity, ambition, image, and entertainment - not reflection, mortality, or accountability.

This creates a contradiction. We praise great thinkers who lived with humility, kindness, and moral clarity - yet we don’t ask why they were that way. Many of them lived with the consciousness that life is fleeting. Sages, mystics, philosophers, and honest statesmen shared this trait. Their ethical compass was sharpened by the awareness that death would render all material pursuits hollow. They feared not death itself, but the idea of living wrongly. They sought to live behind meaning, not monuments.

In contrast, today’s society often rewards the exact opposite. Those who manipulate the system, cut moral corners, or hoard wealth are celebrated - not because they are virtuous, but because they are successful. This culture fosters institutional malafides. When bureaucrats abuse authority, politicians indulge in corruption, and businessmen exploit workers, they do so with a false sense of permanence. If they truly believed that their time in power was brief, and their legacy would be all that remains, they could not act this way. A person who believes that death is near does not build his house on stolen land.

This is not an argument for fatalism. On the contrary, it is a call for meaningful action. If we accept our mortality, we are likely to live more honestly. We are less likely to delay doing good or excuse doing harm. We become more aware of the ripple effects of our actions. We think beyond the immediate moment and consider how we will be remembered, or what we leave behind for others.

There is a reason why ancient thinkers urged people to 'remember death'. The Stoics had a practice called memento mori - a constant reminder that one day we must die. Roman generals returning from victory parades were told by a servant that they were mortal, so they would not be consumed by pride. Death, in this sense, was not seen as a tragedy but as a truth that helps preserve humility, compassion, and justice.

If we embraced this idea, our institutions would change. A civil servant would serve rather than stealing. A judge would honor justice rather than bend to pressure. A law enforcing officer would protect rather than persecute. A teacher would teach values, not just textbooks. When people believe they are accountable beyond their careers, malafide intentions become harder to justify.

ue belief in death also cultivates empathy. It reminds us that everyone suffers, ages, and dies - regardless of status. It brings the rich and the poor, the mighty and the weak, to the same moral plane. If we remembered that the beggar and the billionaire both end up on the same earth, perhaps we would treat each other with more kindness. It is our forgetfulness that allows cruelty, arrogance, and indifference to thrive.

To change this, society must start by re-centering morality in education. We must teach students not only facts and skills, but the importance of living ethically. We must confront them with the big questions - what is a good life, what matters in the end, and how should we treat others in the short time we have? This is not religious instruction; it is moral awakening. We must help young people imagine their death not to frighten them, but to help them live with purpose.

Our leaders, too, must live with this consciousness. They must stop pretending to be immortal actors on an eternal stage. Every term, every position, every fortune is temporary. When leaders accept this, they stop clinging to power and start serving with integrity. They begin to understand that their greatest legacy is not what they build, but how they behave.

The media and cultural institutions also play a role. In today’s world, death is hidden behind hospital walls and sanitized by technology. It is rarely spoken of in popular culture except in violent or sensational ways. This fosters the illusion of invincibility. We must bring back stories, art, and language that dignify mortality. Not to make people morbid, but to make them mindful.

Ultimately, this is not about religion, but about realism. Whether or not one believes in an afterlife, the certainty of death is enough to inspire decency. Even the most secular minds can agree that how one is remembered - and the world one leaves behind — matters. One does not need fear of hell to avoid harming others. Sometimes, the quiet realization that time is limited is enough.

 
Mehdi Rahman works in the
development sector. He also 
writes on foreign trade and 
monetary issues.