Entropy and Decay

The Universe Ruins Everything

Nothing endures.

The world we live in is shaped by two interrelated and irresistible forces: entropy — a tendency toward volatility and disorder — and decay. This leads to chronic frustration, as all of our ambitions are futile, and all our projects doomed to failure.

01 As children, one of the first fundamental truths we discover about life is that it is not static, but dynamic. Things change. Things happen around us and to us that can dramatically alter our situation, for better or for worse. Then, imbued with the illusion of free will (see Article 7), we quickly come to believe that we can sway or shape some of these impactful events through our own actions. We can be the agents of change, within our limited sphere of influence. We can advance our own plans and make our own mark. We can create, acquire, organize, and modify objects or ideas. We can build a home, a monument, a family, or a career. We can order and configure our lives in a way that makes us feel stable, significant, and secure.

02 And then it all falls apart.

03 No matter how hard we try to achieve permanence, the universe won’t let anything last. The law of entropy, also known as the second law of thermodynamics, mandates that in any “natural” (non-intervened) system, disorder will increase over time. In other words, when left alone, things break down. Dissolution and decay are the underlying, default processes of existence, which can only be temporarily counteracted by the expenditure of energy. Thus, it is possible, with great effort, to reverse entropy and amalgamate basic elements of the Earth into a complex, highly organized structure like the famed Burj Khalifa skyscraper in Dubai. Yet as soon as this spectacular project was completed, the acid of time immediately set to work on its destruction. Additional infusions of labor and capital will be invested to support the massive building, but this will only delay the inevitable. Eventually, even the mighty Burj will crumble and fall, unless it is deliberately demolished first. Entropy always wins.

04 Most of us aren’t trying to erect gigantic urban towers in the desert, but we remain endlessly vexed by entropic effects on our more modest attempts to improve our lives and those of others we care about. The dream house you purchased requires constant upkeep that occupies most of your free time. Your new car gets a scratch, then a dent, then needs a new set of tires. A hole appears in your favorite t-shirt. Weeds take over your garden. Your office becomes increasingly cluttered. Your neighborhood reading group goes from meeting once a week, to once a month, to once every other month, and then disbands. Your children grow up and move far away. Your marriage ends in divorce. Your body ages and gradually loses functionality, presaging your ultimate demise. All physical and mental human constructs are destined to disintegrate and disappear, including ourselves.

05 This bitter reality creates a constant tension between objectives and outcomes, seemingly designed to drive us mad. It’s not as if there’s nothing we can do to make things better (as we define what “better” is). Things don’t break and fail and fall into disarray randomly — there are causes and reasons it happens that we can scurry to address, as we’re biologically incentivized to do. It’s not that we’re powerless in the face of these recurring challenges (which would almost be preferable); it’s that we don’t have enough power to truly overcome them; to make a lasting difference. So we go about flailing away, building and buttressing and fixing and replacing and cleaning and organizing, just to achieve a brief moment of satisfaction; a fleeting feeling that we’ve actually accomplished something. But then, the moment we turn our backs, a piece of siding falls off the house, a groundhog burrows under the backyard fence, the bathroom faucet starts dripping again, the printer runs out of ink, the kids leave muddy footprints on the living room carpet, the filing system is abandoned, and we resume our Sisyphean struggle.

06 One alternative is capitulation. Why persist in trying to fight the tide? Just give up and let the waves of chaos wash over you. This may sound appealing to some, but it’s not very realistic. Short of total dependency on benevolent caregivers, or suicide, we cannot simply surrender in the battle against entropy. To go on living, at a minimum, we have to meet our basic needs, which requires us to work to sustain our vulnerable bodies as long as possible (see Article 6), and to create physical and emotional spaces in which we can survive and perhaps even, for a short time, thrive. This means that, at some point, we all have to push that rock back up the hill. You might be able to live in a messy house, or even a dilapidated house, but you can’t live without some form of shelter that must be continually maintained. In modern life, we’re dependent upon all kinds of structures, instrumentalities, and systems which must be repeatedly acquired, utilized, repaired, and preserved in order to carry forward, no matter how exhausting and dispiriting it is to do so.

07 The only other alternative is resignation. We must grimly accept that we inhabit a decaying and disappointing world that will defeat our transformative aspirations and turn all added value to dust. Walk along any street, and everywhere you look, you will see unattended artefacts of civilization inexorably eroding away, reverting to indistinct detritus. Even within the confines of our own carefully curated lives, we’re surrounded by a menagerie of flawed and failing things that we hasten to restore before the literal and metaphorical wreckage accumulates beyond our individual threshold of despair. This compulsive remedial activity — this busyness — becomes an end in itself, filling the void left by our unsatisfied yearning for “progress.”

08 Though it is difficult not to take a dim view of such distressing phenomena, the negative connotation we ascribe to damage and destruction is purely subjective. To the universe, a shattered wine glass is no more objectionable than a pristine one. In fact, the universe clearly favors the pile of fragments on the floor. It’s the unbroken glass that’s the offensive thing, that goes against the grain; a pathetic and pointless act of defiance against the cosmic scheme. In time, every glass will break. All we can do is keep picking up the pieces, until our own day of reckoning arrives.