Is there selfishness after death? That might sound like an odd question at first, but it’s one that makes a surprising amount of sense when you really think about it. Especially if you’ve ever found yourself lying awake at night wondering what happens after we die. Do we float off into some peaceful, all-loving light? Or do we carry the emotional baggage and personality quirks we had in this life into the next one? And if so, what happens to those of us who spent our lives a bit too wrapped up in ourselves?
So let’s have a good chat about it. Not in a heavy, judgmental way, but in that thoughtful, late-night-coffee kind of way. Because when you start digging into the idea of selfishness and what might happen to it after death, things get pretty interesting.
Let’s start with the basics. What do we even mean when we say someone is selfish? I mean, isn’t everyone a little self-focused sometimes? We all have to take care of ourselves. No one’s denying that. If you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t really take care of anyone else either. So, is it bad to look after number one? Not necessarily.
There’s a big difference between healthy self-care and the kind of selfishness we’re really talking about here. The kind that’s all about “me first”—regardless of how it affects others. Philosopher Richard Whately put it well when he said, “A man is called selfish not for pursuing his own good, but for neglecting his neighbour’s.” That gets right to the heart of it. It’s when someone pushes others aside, uses people for their own gain, or just can’t be bothered to care how their actions impact others. That’s the kind of self-centeredness that raises eyebrows—not just in this life, but maybe in the next one, too.
But is selfishness really a choice? That’s where things start getting murky. Let’s be real: not everyone gets dealt the same hand in life. Some people grow up in warm, loving environments that teach them empathy and responsibility. Others are shaped by trauma, neglect, or just plain bad luck. Can we blame someone for developing selfish tendencies if they never had a decent example of generosity or care?
It’s a fair question. And social scientists have done plenty of work connecting things like poverty, trauma, and upbringing with different actions that might look selfish on the surface. Sometimes what we think of as selfishness is just someone trying to survive in a tough world. But here’s where the conversation gets deeper.
As we grow up, we start making choices. Sure, we’re influenced by all those external factors, but we also begin to carve our own paths. We decide what kind of people we want to be. We choose how we respond to hardship, how we treat others, and what kind of values we make our own. And over time, all those choices add up to something pretty powerful: our character.
That brings us to something really interesting that some spiritual traditions say: that after we die, our character doesn’t just disappear. We don’t hit a cosmic reset button. We don’t instantly become angels or demons. We stay ourselves—only more so.
Take Emanuel Swedenborg, an 18th-century spiritual philosopher and visionary. He believed that after death, our inner selves are gradually revealed. No more pretending. No more masks. If you were the type of person who spent your life carefully curating your image—saying the right things, acting the part, hiding your real motives—well, after death, all of that gets stripped away. What’s left is who you really are underneath it all.
And this isn’t just about punishment. Swedenborg—and many others who have reported near-death experiences—talk about a kind of life review. Imagine sitting through a movie of your life, but not just watching what happened. You feel what others felt in response to your actions. The joy you gave them. The hurt you caused. It’s not a courtroom scene. No one’s pointing fingers. But you’re there, front and center, experiencing it all.
That sounds intense, right? But maybe also fair. Because if we really are responsible for who we become, then it makes sense that we’d have to face the truth of what we’ve done—with all the consequences, good and bad.
So what happens to someone who’s lived a deeply selfish life? Not just someone who had bad days or made a few selfish decisions (who hasn’t?), but someone whose core drive was always “me first”? Well, here’s where different traditions offer some fascinating perspectives.
Catholicism has the concept of purgatory—a place where souls are cleansed before they can move on. Chinese folk beliefs talk about Diyu, a realm of temporary suffering meant to help spirits reflect and prepare for their next incarnation. Swedenborg describes a process called vastationes, where false beliefs and harmful attitudes are stripped away. It’s uncomfortable, sure. But it’s also about growth.
In all these views, the idea is the same: the afterlife isn’t just a place you go—it’s a process you go through. And if selfishness is a big part of your character, then you might find yourself going through a tough phase where that gets addressed. It’s not about eternal damnation. It’s about transformation.
But not everyone is open to change—even after death. Some people resist. They hold on to their justifications, their grudges, their sense of entitlement. And according to Swedenborg, those souls end up gravitating toward others who are similar. Not because they’re being punished, but because that’s what they want—deep down. They’re still seeking the kind of environment that suits their desires.
Imagine a community made up entirely of people who are only out for themselves. Who want control, status, and pleasure, and don’t care what it costs others. That doesn’t sound like a very joyful place, does it? But for someone who has lived that way and embraced that mindset, it might feel familiar. Even comfortable.
Swedenborg suggests that in such an environment, people experience as much happiness as they are capable of. Which is to say, a kind of limited, illusion-based happiness. The thrill of getting your way. The pleasure of dominating others. But not the deeper joy that comes from love, connection, or purpose.
On the flip side, those who’ve lived with kindness, fairness, and a desire to help others? They find themselves in communities that reflect those values. Again, not as a reward, but because like attracts like. Their happiness grows from being around others who care, who want to do good, who are honest and respectful. The atmosphere is one of mutual goodwill.
In this view, selfishness shapes not just your life on earth but your life after death. It determines the kind of people you end up with, the kind of world you inhabit, and the kind of joy you’re capable of experiencing. Heavy stuff.
But here’s a hopeful twist: change is always possible—while we’re still alive. That’s the good news. We’re not stuck. We’re not doomed. Every day gives us new chances to be a little less self-absorbed, a little more aware of how our actions affect others, a little more willing to share, help, and care.
And don’t think this means becoming some kind of saint overnight. That’s not realistic. It’s more about heading in the right direction. Making conscious choices. Reflecting on what drives us and where our loyalties lie.
We all have power. The question is, how do we use it? For our own gain, no matter the cost? Or in ways that lift others up too? That choice might just echo far beyond this life.
So next time you catch yourself acting selfishly (and we all do), take it as a chance—not to beat yourself up, but to check in with yourself. What do you really want? What kind of person are you becoming? What kind of afterlife would that person feel at home in?
Because if selfishness does follow us after death, maybe the real question isn’t “Will I be punished?” but “Who am I choosing to become?” And in that, every moment still alive is a gift. A chance to write your own next chapter, in this life and the next.
Now, doesn’t that make for a meaningful conversation over coffee?
Copyright 2025 Stephen Russell-Lacy
Author of The Great Questions of Life
