Terror Management, Dynamical Systems, and Death

Hello everyone,

      Today, as you can see, I was in a very good mood and aspired to write about a very positive and optimistic topic. Death is something that has long fascinated me, and perhaps fascinates all of us. Terror management theory posits that humans are aware of inevitable death, and meaning is that which emerges from our efforts in life, which are only to combat that fear of death. I think this is a cynical worldview, and that we have the capacity to live outside of the constraints of fear, as it seems that many spiritual teachers and practitioners have, but I think it is an undeniable truth that death influences us.

      I can’t really contend with the notion that meaning emerges as a result of death. This was highlighted in Alan Lightman’s short story “A Brief Version of Time.” In the story, time is infinite, and nobody ever dies. People become divided into the groups “The Nows” and “The Laters.” The Nows are people who believe that because they have infinite time, they can accomplish everything they could ever imagine, having an infinite number of careers, marry an infinite number of times, change their lives, and etc. You might initially give this idea some credence – what if you *could* do everything you ever wanted? Why wouldn’t that be fantastic. Consider marriage because that wouldn’t be too difficult to figure out. Marriage is great, most of us believe—so why not marry four times as opposed to one? This demonstrates that the world is not best viewed in terms of numbers and objectivity. Marriage is a process of forfeiting all other potential partners and putting another person’s needs before your own—an entirely irrational process, for which there is no basis within the realm of ratiocination. Yet, it is the goal for many of us. And we just want one. Any more than that results in legal, financial, and psychological problems. That’s the problem with the Nows. The Laters, conversely, posit that with their infinite time, they can do whatever they want all the time because they could always be productive later. The flaw here is more obvious. In either scenario, though, nothing is worth anything. Death is the forebear of value itself.

      It is said in Dynamical Systems Theory that dynamical systems have “selective constraints” and “enabling constraints.” Selective constraints are things which limit the potential number of operations of a system and enabling constraints increase that number. Death seems to be a meta-constraint, as the lack of death as delineated in Lightman’s story demonstrates a lack of both kind: The Nows suffer a lack of selective constraints—without the possibility of death, I should do everything! The Laters suffer a lack of enabling constraints—without the possibility of death, what is the point of doing anything? Death seems to serve both purposes. In life, we get up and do a certain number of things. The enabling component of death constitutes the “get up” part, and the selective component constitutes the “certain number” part. And perhaps this is how death brings about both meaning, and its antithesis: suffering. Meaning is the result of facilitated doing while knowing you will die. Suffering is the experience of impediments while knowing you will die. And these things only have value in our “tiny-creature-spinning-on-a-rock-in-a-galaxy” worldview. Death strikes a perfect balance, which manifests as meaning - the reason for life to continue. 

      Something we discussed last meeting, actually, was the last words of people on their deathbeds, and their regrets. People (obviously) regret the things that they didn’t do—death as an insufficient enabling constraint or did do—death as an insufficient selective constraint. This last-minute fear demonstrates the integrality of having a healthy relationship with death. We must face it in all the ugliness that we are so convinced to characterize it. There is nothing good about carrying on in life as though you aren’t going to die—that worldview might be the easiest way to die. We also mustn’t live only in the terror-management dystopia, acting only out of fear of dying. 

      We must acknowledge that it is there, and use it as a motivator, a teacher. The knowledge that this is all going to be gone someday should elicit gratitude for what is. We live our lives as though only our mental construction of the future contains possible good, even with death, which creates so much suffering screaming at us, telling us “Appreciate this while you have it!” And I agree with you—this isn’t the best etiquette on death’s part, but I’m a believer in the “ends justifying the means.” If this is what is necessary to experience the beauty of meaning and of life, then so be it—and I encourage this perspective. Death is begging us to let go of past and future for just a second and love what is. Terrence McKenna, psychedelic pioneer (I am not advocating psychedelics—just a nice quote) said that after he was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer, “a bug walking across the ground moved him to tears.” Death moves us back to the natural order of things—to be a thing that inhabits the moment—not an ideal future, or a past. “The moment is all there is,” death declares. We live lives of rejecting this notion, but that will have no effect on the outcome, in ultimacy. Why not accept it, and let it be your teacher? Why not comply with its lessons? You are going to die anyway, just perhaps less miserably this way. 

      Without death, this “system” we know as existence would be capable of an infinite number of possibilities—disorder, or entropy. Or no possible possibilities—two mathematical solutions of little use. We want the output of the system to be exactly what it is—whatever value represents the balance between a sufficient amount of death-fear, and a sufficient amount of living—and life seems to be a sort of experiment, testing the manipulation of these variables. This system is dynamical, rather than a Newtonian “cause-and-effect” situation. You have the say. You are left with two criteria: you are going to die, and you are alive. What are you going to do with that information?