Why We’re So Reactive Right Now: Becker, TMT, and finding hope

Have you read Dan Brown’s new book The Secret of Secrets? I just finished it, and was pleased by how often he names the realities of death and dying. In one section toward the end, he even references the Terror Management Theory (TMT). If you’re not familiar with TMT, please read on—because it’s one of the big reasons we do what we do at Willow.

A Surprising Look at the Psychology of Mortality.

It starts with the seminal book, The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker. He argued that knowing we’re going to die is so overwhelming that we spend much of our lives trying not to think about it. This quiet fear shapes so much of what we do—from the personalities we build to the goals we chase—because we’re always searching for ways to feel safe, significant, or connected to something that endures. Becker, drawing on psychology, philosophy, and anthropology, believed that our search for meaning is really a way to manage the fear of our own mortality.

About half a decade after Becker died, three graduate students—Sheldon Solomon, Jeff Greenberg, and Tom Pyszczynski—found themselves wrestling with Becker’s ideas.

They realized his theory could actually be tested. Their first experiments began around 1984, and the early findings were so striking that they spent the next three decades expanding, testing, and refining Becker’s insights through hundreds of experiments around the world. Some of it is described in their book,The Worm at the Core, which came out ten years ago when Michelle and I were founding Willow! Their work continued well past the publication of their book in 2015, and TMT research is still ongoing today.

What the Fear of Death Is Really Doing to Us

TMT essentially confirmed what Becker proposed in 1973, that is:

Our awareness of mortality quietly shapes the way we think, feel, and act—every single day.

Not just in big, dramatic moments, but in tiny ones too. The three scholars found that when people are reminded of mortality—directly or subtly—they often react in predictable ways. The fear doesn’t usually show up as fear. It shows up as defensiveness, rigidity, and a strong need to protect whatever makes them feel safe or “right.” 

According to their research, even subtle reminders of mortality—walking past a cemetery, hearing news of a disaster, or encountering the word ‘death’ without registering it can lead people to:

• Double down on their beliefs and identities
• Reject or attack people who think differently
• Become more reactive, anxious, or judgmental
• Seek clear “good vs. bad” narratives for comfort
• Cling to leaders or groups that promise safety or certainty
• Act more aggressively toward out-groups or perceived threats
• Idealize their own group, nation, religion, or worldview

All of this happens largely unconsciously. The person thinks they’re responding to politics or morality or identity—but underneath, the real trigger is often mortality awareness.

How This Shows Up in the Dark Times We’re In

In moments of global crisis—war, climate disasters, political polarization, social conflict—mortality moves from the background to the foreground. Even if we’re not consciously thinking, I might die right now, our nervous systems register a threat.

TMT suggests that this collective mortality awareness can amplify the following:

• Polarization (“my side vs. their side”)
• Dehumanization
• Violence and retaliation
• Righteous certainty
• Scapegoating and blame
• Mistrust of “the other”
• Desperate clinging to ideology or identity
  

In other words, in darker times we see the very behaviors TMT has been predicting for decades. This doesn’t excuse harmful actions—but it helps us understand where they come from.

When people are afraid—especially afraid of death—they often try to protect their worldview instead of their humanity. 

They cling to what makes them feel powerful or safe, sometimes at the expense of compassion, nuance, or truth.

Where the Hope Lives

Reading this research, I felt both horrified and empowered—horrified by the destructive behaviors mortality fear can fuel, and empowered by the realization that Willow had already been offering a way to meet that fear with honesty and care.

Here’s the part that (pleasantly) surprised me most—perhaps because it echoed what we at Willow had been saying long before I knew this research existed.

Near the end of A Worm at the Core, the authors write:

“When looked at a certain way, our awareness of death yields a keener appreciation for life.”

They went on to suggest that consciously acknowledging mortality—rather than avoiding it—is what softens its sting.

This wasn’t just a scientific conclusion—it felt like a spiritual one!

When mortality is explored consciously—with support, honesty, and curiosity—people tend to become more compassionate, more humble, and more connected.

That insight echoed what I had already witnessed countless times. When people dare to explore the reality of their mortality, something shifts. They become more self-aware. They connect more deeply with people in their lives. They live more intentionally. Their gratitude grows. They “wake up before their time’s up.”

I saw it in our first Willow Workshops®, when participants wrote their Legacy Love Letters®, Heart Wills®, and Departure Directions®. I see it now in every River of Life drawing and every values exercise, in the tender conversations people have in breakout rooms, and in the quiet clarity that follows an honest encounter with mortality.

The research didn’t create that insight for me—it simply affirmed what I had already witnessed in real human hearts.

A Question to Sit With

All of this—Becker’s ideas, the decades of research, the way fear shows up in subtle and not-so-subtle ways—helps explain why Willow exists. We’re not here to push paperwork or offer quick fixes. We’re here because reflecting on mortality, with support and spaciousness, can shift the way we live, relate, and make meaning.

For today, I’ll leave you with one simple reflection:

When you gently acknowledge the truth that your life will one day end, what becomes more precious? What becomes more possible?