On the Death of Robin Williams

            I like to think that most people do not think about suicide. I like to think that most people, and by ‘most’ I mean nearly all, wake up each morning not needing to will themselves out of bed or coach themselves to carry on. They just do, and most have a reason to, whatever it may be.

            But this week I am thinking about suicide, and I would venture to say, so is most of the world. This week the king of comedy chose the path of tragedy and ended his life. ‘Why’ is a question as much clichéd as it is rhetorical, but we are still trying to reach the answer. Why would a man who was loved so deeply by his wife and children, who was hailed world-wide as a genius and a success, who had the respect and esteem of his peers and icons, who had purpose in philanthropy and charity, why would such a man need to escape the world in so desperate a manner?

            Rob and I disagree. His contention is that those who are highly intelligent and creative are more prone to depression and suicide than the rest of us ordinary people. There is something in the creative mind that causes one to think differently from others, and this difference is so alienating that it wears the genius down. It is exhausting to not fit in and to have to spend one’s life trying to get the world to understand and approve of your peculiar way of thinking. He cites David Foster Wallace, Kirk Cobain, Spalding Gray, Ernest Hemingway. He quotes Kirk Douglas as Vincent van Gogh shouting, “It’s impossible!”

            It’s a very romantic notion, but I disagree. Depression and its by-product suicide are universal. A blue collar worker who dropped out of high school can feel that same alienation. A housewife who never considered college or the arts can perceive herself as misunderstood and unappreciated. I cite the teenage boy who shoots himself after being bullied at school, the distraught mothers who usher their children into the afterlife with them, the elderly who feel they are a burden to others. Anyone can feel desperate. Everyone feels misunderstood. The intelligent do not have a market on depression, nor does creativity require suffering.

            Apparently, studies on this are inconclusive, but they lean in my direction. About fifteen years ago, Scientific America published a report suggesting that men with lower IQ’s are far more likely to commit suicide than those with higher IQ’s. The speculation was that people with lower IQ’s also have a lower ability to problem-solve, leading them to see suicide as the best solution in overwhelming situations. Additionally, men with lower IQ’s tend to have more exposure to violence in childhood. This violent history is ostensibly a factor in many violent deaths. And as for creativity, there is no link to that and mental illness either. In fact, a more recent study by Simon Kyaga  in the Journal of Psychiatric Research concludes that “individuals with overall creative professions were not more likely to suffer from investigated psychiatric disorders….” (The only exception to this is writers. Go figure.) Interestingly, the study also found that siblings of those diagnosed with mental illness are far more likely to have a creative profession in the arts or sciences than their brothers or sisters with mental illness.

            The majority of intelligent, creative people are happy and healthy. They have an outlet for their unconventional thinking, and, I surmise, couldn’t care less if the world appreciates or understands them. They do not fit in, and they are happy to keep it that way. Why would a creative, intelligent person feel desperate at not fitting in with Kardashian-lovers or mass market paperback-readers? Why would a creative, intelligent person decide that life is not worth living because people prefer television to art, rap to music, video games to books? Such resistance is part of the quest. It is essential to the mystery of creative life. It builds a new purpose into the creative process.

            Robin Williams was a good and generous man. Examples of his altruism and selflessness are coming to light as each day passes. He was also plagued by the consequences of his bad choices. We can speculate that his addictions had something to do with his decision to end his own life. We can hazard that the decision was made more to spare his family than to spare himself. But we should also not shy away from saying that it was the wrong decision. Some are being villainized for saying Mr. Williams’ suicide was cowardly. But, as Rob said this morning, one cowardly act does not make a coward, just as one idiotic act does not make an idiot, and one brilliant act does not make a genius.

            No one saw it coming. Suicide is frequently a shock. Despite Rob’s theory, we simply can’t assume that one type of person or another is more likely to take his own life. Anyone can hurt. It seems there is no describing just how much people can hurt inside, and how many different things can drain a person of his objective and joy. It has made me aware of how brutal and lonely life can be, not just for the genius or the creative, but for every living soul, if he or she does not have hope. In The Noonday Devil, Father Bernard Basset wrote, “Because each of us is, in a sense ... utterly unable to communicate even a fraction of our inner selves to others, we cannot by ourselves, unaided, escape such loneliness.” He continues, “We are cut off from the world… sealed inside ourselves.” God alone can reach those sealed-off parts, but we can always be more compassionate, more patient, less self-centered. We can always look a little harder past our own trials and burdens to those of someone else. This reminder might be the flicker of good that comes from a life well-lived and badly ended.