Act or Outcome: Consequentialist versus Deontological Approaches

In Aldous Huxley’s dystopian novel Brave New World, death is taken as a matter of course in the ‘World State’ society, with the citizens given ‘death conditioning’ to desensitize them to death. The remains of World State citizens are burned for purely utilitarian reasons, with the phosphorous recovered and harvested so individuals can ‘go on being socially useful even after [they’re] dead’. In addition to helping plants grow, this method avoids the space constraints faced by cultures where ground burial is the standard practice. For consequentialists – who believe that the rightness or wrongness of an action lies in its consequences – body disposal should promote methods that yield good outcomes. Such good outcomes could range from a Brave New World-esque chemical recovery programme, where the bodies themselves are put to good use directly, to practices such as cremation, which acts as a space-saving device to preserve physical areas for purposes other than corpse storage.

Jeremy Bentham, the famous utilitarian, wrote a wonderfully bizarre paper about the ‘auto-icon’, explaining how dead bodies could be useful. He declared that an auto-icon, a person’s actual preserved dead body, would be an appropriate way for a corpse to be treated after death (and practised what he preached by having his own body preserved after his own death, to the titillation of his friends and future students of UCL, where his auto-icon is displayed). Bentham surmised that this option would not only save money but also provide a long-lasting souvenir of the person after their demise. Whether Bentham intended this curious imperative as some joke or as a philosophical statement about death is unknown, but I can imagine others being similarly inclined to leave instructions in their wills that cause equally as much fuss (how many individuals would bequeath their Mother-in-Law a taxidermized foot for their mantlepiece as a statement or leave a disobedient child their stuffed middle finger as a condition of receiving their part of the inheritance, I wonder). Some people may even want to immortalize their loved ones in the same way devoted pet owners stuff their deceased cats and dogs, cherishing them as keepsakes. The extremity of this example raises a question: Is something important lost by only focusing on the practical consequences of burial methods? Do these practices demote the sacred to the profane by prioritizing the consequences?

Deontologists – who argue that the moral status of an action lies in the action itself – may claim that we have duties and responsibilities to the deceased or bereaved, no matter what the consequences. For example, perhaps for the Kantian we have an obligation to respect and dignify the dead in very particular ways because we ought not treat people as means to ends, even if they are now devoid of sentience or thought. Or perhaps the deontologist may argue that certain types of body disposal undermine or even desecrate the person to whom the body belonged in life. Those of the Muslim faith, for example, must purify a dead body by washing it carefully. Cremation is forbidden, with bodies interred in shrouds, not coffins, and facing the direction of Mecca, the Holy Land. Bodies are washed to show respect to the deceased, and cremation is disallowed because it would hinder bodily resurrection, a prominent principle in the religion’s eschatological framework. All these rituals illustrate how spiritual and moral beliefs, as well as personal preferences, influence decisions about the body’s disposal. Let’s dig into some more specific practices in the next section.

Grave Matters

An underlying thread weaving through the diverse cultural practices is the firm belief that the dead ought to be treated with dignity and respect … but only if they deserve it. In ancient Greece, for example, traitors were not given proper burials so their souls would be unable to reach the Underworld without the necessary earth covering. Hence, in Sophocles’ play, the character of Antigone is condemned to death for trying to bury her brother, Polyneices, against King Creon’s wishes. Polyneices, considered a traitor by Creon, is condemned to have his soul wander the earth, barred from Hades unless Antigone intervenes. For Antigone, a handful of dirt sprinkled on a body was sufficient to maintain her deceased brother’s honour. Of course, cultures differ significantly in what constitutes a dignified and respectful disposal, but let’s consider some of the primary methods used throughout history.

Ancient Egyptians notoriously preserved the bodies of their dead through the ‘mummification’ process; hence, we have numerous wrapped relics, recently unearthed by archaeologists, but thousands of years old. By embalming the dead flesh, carefully removing and preserving internal organs, and burying bodies in shallow graves, where the acidity of the ground fought decay, Egyptians effectively kept the bodies of their dead ‘fresher for longer’, as a pasteurized milk company’s slogan might boast. Important Egyptians would be buried alongside money, jewels, weapons, food and other symbols of wealth or practical provisions, which they believed would ensure their entry into the afterlife and success there. Even more extremely, in the earliest dynasties, these provisions could include the spouses and servants of the deceased, who were murdered and buried to accompany them (luckily, this practice was relatively quickly changed to involve symbolic dolls rather than actual people). For those who don’t subscribe to this post-mortem inheritance belief, this practice may seem wasteful, meaningless and even cruel. However, if based on truth, then this type of burial ritual would undoubtedly be very helpful to the deceased. Perhaps individuals could select a few items to accompany them to their graves, a sort of macabre version of Desert Island Discs.

In contrast to the elaborate death plans of the ancient Egyptians, some nomadic tribes are more likely to have simpler burial rites since they do not have a permanent home in which to establish graveyards and shrines that can be visited regularly. Mongolian Pastoral Nomads, for instance, choose to lay bodies to rest directly on or in the ground with no pre-burial chemical preparations. The body is thus urged to reintegrate itself with the natural environment. The body may be devoured by wild animals or destroyed by the elements in line with the belief that the body is no longer a part of the self.

Sky burial is a similar method of body disposal in which facilitators place the corpse out in the open, on the mountainside, for instance, as a feast for birds and beasts. The practice, common in several eastern countries, aligns with Tibetan Buddhism; the Buddhist term for this practice (‘jhator’) translates as ‘giving alms to the birds’. Recently, due to unfortunate environmental trends, some communities have had to re-evaluate this practice. The decreasing population of vultures means that the corpses are not gobbled up immediately, and, consequently, increases the risk of spreading disease from the rotting bodies, which in turn threatens to undermine the earth-loving motives for this type of burial.

In the Judaeo-Christian tradition, ground burial is the preferred method of disposing of the body. God created humans from dust, and to dust they will return. However, the issue is how they return to dust. For some theists, the question of whether God can reassemble ‘cremains’ remains the main issue. One wouldn’t want to risk exclusion from heaven because one’s body, the golden ticket to afterlife bliss, was burnt to ashes. Bodies, if possible, ought to be buried in the ground intact and with particular funeral rites that dignify the dead, while protecting and preparing the soul for the afterlife. In this case, eschatological concerns are crucial to determining the body’s ultimate fate, especially for those who believe in bodily resurrection, since there must be a body to be resurrected. That is one of several reasons why, in many traditional Judaeo-Christian denominations, cremation has been discouraged – or even banned.

In the US, over 22,000 cemeteries bury 827,060 gallons of embalming fluid, 90,272 tons of steel and 1,636,000 tons of reinforced concrete in the form of caskets. Previously, though less common now, coffins were buried six feet underground to protect against wild animals and grave robbers. That specific amount of space apparently makes it almost impossible for hungry mouths or greedy hands to aid the decomposition process. Happily, there is now a smorgasbord of carbon-lite alternatives – natural methods where bodies do not legally have to be buried in coffins, although this is not the case in all countries. Due to the drawbacks of traditional techniques and the benefits of non-traditional methods, times have changed somewhat within specific sub-groups. Limits to available physical space, for example, have prompted certain groups to lay traditional burial to rest – or at least allow more post-mortem flexibility. One fascinating alternative to burial and cremation is space-blasting bodies, shooting them into space after death, ridding the Earth of the waste. The lack of oxygen in the atmosphere, though, significantly slows decomposition. If this practice proliferated, we would be left with a strange intergalactic mobile in which corpse satellites orbit the Earth, and astronomers could scour the skies for deceased flybys, looping the planet until it finally splits apart and rejoins the cosmos. A ‘spacemetary’, if you will. Perhaps not the best plan for a green funeral after all.

As the plots literally thicken, less conservative denominations of Judaeo-Christianity have been more open to accepting non-traditional routes such as cremation and organ donation, which prevent the body from being buried fully intact. We cannot ignore the environmental downsides of traditional burial practices. Embalming and encasing bodies in metal caskets, treated wooden coffins or cement vaults will inevitably delay the body’s decomposition. A simple biodegradable box or shroud would be preferable to a coffin, from an environmental standpoint. In traditional Judaism, for example, embalming and non-biodegradable coffins are discouraged. Green cemeteries employ more environmentally friendly methods like these, and, interestingly, natural burials are not a modern invention. Many cultures used to bury their dead without caskets and chemicals, allowing decomposition to occur more quickly.

Compose Yourself! Appropriate Pantheistic Bodily Disposal

Pantheists believe that the whole cosmos is God. There is no single pantheistic doctrine, but broadly speaking, pantheists believe that the world (either as a whole or in parts) is divine. For many pantheists, morality is not based on a specific set of divine commands; rather, what is morally good is what is good for the universe. Hence, pantheists ought to include not only people in their circle of moral worth but also non-human animals, plants, and even inanimate objects! Of course, bodily disposal is usually reserved for humans and animals. Saying that, after a drunk driver killed the ‘Tree of Ténéré’ in Niger, locals erected a shrine to remember and revere the tree. It is unclear whether this remembrance act was intended to be for the deceased or the bereaved. Indeed, the plant graveyard I established in one corner of my front porch serves less as a memorial and more as a reminder to take better care of my foliage’s well-being.

Using pantheism as a derogatory term has slipped out of favour in recent years, thank goodness. In 2016, though, the Vatican released a statement claiming that ‘in order that every appearance of pantheism, naturalism or nihilism be avoided, it is not permitted to scatter the ashes of the faithful departed in the air, on land, at sea or in some other way, nor may they be preserved in mementoes, pieces of jewellery or other objects’. Catholicism directly opposes any practice that is done for utilitarian or non-Christian religious motivations. The statement names and shames pantheism (along with the bedfellows of naturalism and nihilism) as particularly immoral. Christian burials will not be granted for those who want cremation for those motivations.

Being eaten by bugs and beasts, for the pantheist, is not undignified, but nor is being burned to ashes, blasted into space, used as research for a body farm, or placed underwater in ‘cremains’ form to help a coral reef flourish (‘aquamation’). In fact, by promoting the flourishing of other life forms, the pantheist dignifies both themselves and God. Since the cosmos is a divine unity for pantheists, it is crucial that they recognize this unity by promoting care for non-human creatures and the environment itself. In Peter Seeger’s famous song, ‘Where Have All the Flowers Gone?’, the pacifist activist laments war by tracing a symbiotic path from flowers to girls, to husbands, to soldiers, to graveyards, and eventually back to flowers again. This continuous cycle is one through which all living entities, not just humans, must travel, and the pantheist is keen to avoid anthropocentric views on the world altogether. It is not only humans who matter but also non-human animals, plants, and even natural but non-living features such as streams, mountains and entire planets. For the pantheist, then, consuming valuable ground space to maintain the individuality of the deceased person, ontologically and spiritually, is somewhat of a grave error (sorry). Although moral consequentialism is not a prerequisite for pantheism, many pantheists believe that what is morally right is what benefits the cosmos; therefore, a pantheistic burial that benefits the world would be in keeping with pantheistic values. Ontologically, the pantheist welcomes connection with the cosmos, so the sooner the dead body can rejoin with the rest of the universe, the better. A pantheist returning to nature is not diminishing but dignifying because it is the way that one returns to the sacred.

But what about a permanent record of me and my legacy on my headstone? ‘Where will my epitaph go?’ I hear you cry. For the pantheist, we are part of a bigger whole; therefore, the pantheist may be more interested in returning to a foundational unity than declaring one’s permanent individuality. More importantly, for the pantheist, death could be a final gesture of service to the sacred whole. Sky burial, if it can be practised safely, aligns nicely with pantheistic tendencies. The body returns quickly to nature, providing nourishment to many different creatures. For pantheists, sky burial serves as a way to give back to the world, an act of symbiotic generosity. Similarly, pantheists may view this tradition as not only a generous and good way to dispose of the body but also a way to worship God. Human composting is another valuable method of disposal gaining traction worldwide.

Green burials offer a gesture of appreciation for nature, and, more than that, they align with the pantheistic notion that all are one. The quicker the boundaries between our individual bodies and the rest of the cosmos fade, the better. We can be pushing up not only daisies but all sorts of other life forms. In general, cremation or green burials are often more affordable than traditional ones. Some critics argue that those promoting green graveyards are guilty of greenwashing, or misleading the public about the actual effects of specific practices and exaggerating their benefits. This indeed is a danger of which we ought to be wary. The question of what constitutes nature is important, too. We often romanticize nature in a way that also limits it, pigeon-holing natural entities as those parts of nature we find aesthetically endearing or natural in a ‘non-human’ sense. Of course, humans are part of nature and, also, in a way, the artefacts created by humans are too.

In the US, at the time of writing, only thirteen states allow human composting (in my home state of Georgia, the governor only signed this into law in 2025). Still, more and more areas of the country are legalizing this green means of disposal and allowing the pantheist to exercise their religion in death as well as in life. Pantheists ought to have rights to green burial rites. Since pantheistic burial practices, by nature, must respect the divine world, there is no danger (at least in theory) of these rituals causing damage. Denying individuals the right to a natural burial by law is a violation of autonomy and morality. We are digging our own graves, so to speak, by prohibiting a practice that could save money, help the environment and allow individuals their preferred method of dignified disposal. In fact, I argue that natural burial ought to be granted as part of the right to freedom of religion that a citizen has. Hopefully, a sea change will occur in the near future that allows pantheists the flexibility to do what they think is right with their dead bodies.

Since our bodies age, wither and expire, corpse disposal is a grave matter (excuse the pun) for many worldviews. From aquamation to human space junk, the creative options for disposing of bodies continue to expand. Like the joke about a man being buried in a glass coffin, it remains to be seen whether the trend towards nature-forward burials will become more ingrained in the years ahead. I suspect it will, and I suspect Jeremy Bentham would be thrilled about that.