“Die? Not me!” was the recent title story of ‘Der Spiegel’. One wants to say farewell to saying farewell. Medication and transhumanism seem to make it possible, as if everlasting life had become within our grasp. Even if this is just the wishful thinking of an unfettered this-worldliness, following the drive toward simple feasibility – this attitude is certainly symptomatic. The trend toward absolute presence makes the phenomenon of absence look suspicious, especially the kind that occurs after death. It causes a pain which our anesthetized society no longer wants to bear. Therefore, farewells are now only hinted at: kiss on the left cheek, kiss on the right, five minutes later we’ll see each other on WhatsApp anyhow. In permanent presence, nothing gets under our skin any longer. Communication degenerates to chatter, feelings degenerate to posing on Instagram. How much deeper were those painful farewells on station platforms, when people still wistfully waved goodbye with a white handkerchief. And authors said farewell to their gracious readers when a series of columns ended. This is the point that “Endangered gestures” has now reached. This one is to be the last – not because the subject was exhausted, but because everything, not just human life, must have an end, if it is to preserve its form. So I say farewell to you, thank you for your loyalty, ask you for leniency, if not everything was according to your taste, and hope that the column by and large found your favor. Farewell! Calls out to you

Alexander Pschera

Translated from: Cato Magazin, 6/19.