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Olena Seredova, Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

I was trained for months to be able to drive, though in principle I could have remained a pedestrian or a lifelong Uber user. But no one prepared me to understand and acknowledge death, as if I might never face it.

Frankly, I wasn’t just “not prepared” to understand death—I have never been talked to about death, as if this topic were taboo, at least in the post-Soviet, Russian-speaking space.

At some point in my life, I realized that I feared everything. Something compelled me to reject everything just to avoid risking my illusionary comfort zone. Working with a trauma therapist, I discovered the primal source of my many fears—the fear of death. Therefore, I had to become more acquainted with this topic, and here I want to share my reflections.

The instinct of self-preservation manifests itself in two ways: fear and adaptation. The feeling of fear forces us to neutralize the threat—after all, a person is capable of almost anything to escape from danger.

But how? Each of us, at a fairly young age, is faced with an uncompromising, frightening awareness of our mortality. However, fear caused by the instinct of self-preservation cannot isolate us from death. 

You can’t avoid this danger and you can’t turn off the “alarm,” either. Consciousness cannot find a way out of this paradox; it becomes unbearable, and we often use the simplest defense tactics: suppression and denial.

After all, we need to live somehow, even when flying into the abyss of non-existence. And we study, get married, work and go about our lives. We voluntarily choose to not notice, ignore and avoid thinking about death—like in The Matrix, suppressing the unbearable but only true knowledge about ourselves.

The internal conflict, which has not disappeared, but has been driven into the subconscious, like radiation, emits endless anxiety and frustration. 

Let’s go back to the second way of actualizing the instinct for self-preservation—adaptation. For example, birds, adapting, fly south; frogs freeze for several months. But how can a person adapt to the horror of understanding that everything is temporary and can end at any moment?

I didn’t find the answer for a long time until I came across an astounding thought expressed by Pulitzer Prize winner Ernest Becker. He argued that to dull internal anxiety and adapt to the thought of the inevitability of death, so-called “immortality projects” are created, both personal and social. And here is the main thing: all human activity helps conditionally overcome death, creating the illusion of the continuation of life.

Personal “immortality projects” are anything from masterpieces of art to the conquest of new lands, the accumulation of wealth and even a large family with an abundance of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. 

Becker included culture, religion, art, mythology, philosophy, folklore, architecture and  statehood among social “immortality projects.” I marvelled at applying his theory to all known and understandable examples of creative, scientific and civil heritage, such as countries, nations, races, organizations and so on.

It is amazing that he considered all systems of meanings and identities created by humanity as social constructs that give hope for the “extension” of life, the existence after death. 

Let’s not dwell, however, on how great it is that humanity has leaped into the future, fueled by the fear of death. Yes, many gifts of civilization are good. But I invite you to think about how much energy is spent on adapting to the horror of death. Perhaps, if we used some part of these efforts for study, building awareness and coming to terms with death, we would achieve no less significant results?

For instance, many are familiar with the works of Irvin Yalom, an advocate of the existential approach and a popularizer of the idea of reconciling with death. 

As an avid proponent of existential methods, he urged the transformation of unconscious experiences into conscious ones. By simply acknowledging your fears, anxieties and despair, you are already mitigating a portion of their intensity.

And what is the current state of the social narrative regarding death that I witness in my daily life? 

Due to the fact that there are more deaths in the news, movies and games, I see signs of inflation, depreciation and habituation of death. Add here such factors as the post-COVID dulling of sympathy for the departed and those who suffered loss, and the word “war,” which has become commonplace.

Have you noticed the current peak in interest in the field of psychological well-being? It’s exhausting to enumerate the schools, tools and methods for regulating mental processes. But I’ve developed a sense that all this fervent activity is concentrated solely on issues that are symptomatic.

However, I have also discovered that the study and development of methods dedicated to overcoming the fear of death receive inexplicably little attention from the psychological community. 

I have a creeping suspicion that it is simply not profitable to solve this fundamental issue because psychological disorders are lucrative. Otherwise, it is hard for me to understand why we haven’t progressed beyond research from half a century ago.

But it is also as fascinating as it is frightening, just like death itself. It is intriguing to contemplate what I will do with these conclusions. At least I’ll name them, as Irvin would have wanted. After all, if our relationship with death defines our relationship with life, then I lethally crave to live.

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