Is It Really Random? Life Before Death

1.23%. Can you believe it? There was a 1.2345432% chance that you were born. No, just kidding—it’s actually 0.34%. Adding more decimal points does make it sound more convincing, right? But don’t take my word for it—let me walk you through my thought process, which, by the way, has nothing to do with that number.

And my thought process isn’t about numbers. Who cares about those odds? You’re here, so do something with it. What I have in mind is more philosophical, but with a practical edge. A few days ago, I found myself wondering what it really took for me to be born. Sure, my parents, my grandparents, and their parents before them—it’s easy to trace back, maybe 200 years or so. But what I’m really interested in is the sequence of events that led to me, to the present day. Along that line, there must have been an alternation between life and death. Not just life and death, but life before death—paired with the choices each person made along the way.

My mom reconnected with her then ex-boyfriend (now my dad) at a local festival in my hometown, some time after they had broken up. I guess that’s what eventually led to me being born. But what if they hadn’t met that night? What if my dad, who lived in a nearby town, had decided to stay in and go to bed instead of going out?

Then there’s my grandfather, back in the late 1930s, traveling miles on a makeshift carrier to meet a woman he’d never seen in person—just a photo of her in his pocket. I don’t remember exactly how he got that photo, but along the way, on that same day and same carriage, he met another man. And guess what? That man was headed to meet the same woman. In the end, she chose my grandfather.

You see where I’m going, right? These are lovely stories about the randomness of meeting someone, the tiny moments that could have gone another way. All it would’ve taken was a small change—a second thought, a different decision—to push things onto a completely different path. And that’s what reminds me how unique each of us is. On days when everything feels repetitive or mundane, I remind myself: even those moments are unique in their own way.

But let’s get a bit creepier for a second. On a broader level, I see each person as life before death. Take the unification of Italy in 1861—over a million people were killed or deported. Yet, for some reason, my ancestors made decisions—whether through cunning or sheer luck—that kept them alive. Or more accurately, they managed to create life before the age of 30. Back in the 1870s, the average person in Italy lived only about 30 years. We don’t even have to go as far back as the Roman Empire to find life expectancy so short. And in case you’re wondering, an adult’s life expectancy in the Empire was just 25 years. So those ancestors whose genes you carry? They procreated before the age most of us finish college. This short span of life went on for centuries.

But if you’re like me, the further back I go, the more disconnected I feel. As I write this, I realize I don’t feel much attachment to those people from back then—maybe no attachment at all. I don’t think of them as individuals anymore, but rather as a crowd of historical figures who, at some point, walked this planet. And it’s fair—I never met them. Maybe they were sweet, or maybe they were horrible people. What’s clear is they had to fight harder to survive, at least in this part of the world where I live. Sadly, there are still places today where surviving day to day is a literal struggle.

But let’s keep the focus on them as individuals for a second. Think about it—we’re carrying the genes of those people.

Where does it all start? Honestly, I don’t even know if that question is relevant. Whatever we say, it’s mostly speculation anyway, based on whatever mental model or set of assumptions we follow. If religion is your model, then there’s a good chance you believe in two individuals who lived here before anyone else. And, oh, by the way, life back then supposedly lasted 900 years. Clearly, something must have gone wrong over the years.

I wonder if the fact that each of us is born is really a combination of the skills and luck of all our ancestors. How many of them? If we consider that humans have been around for about 2 million years, and with an average life expectancy of 25 years until around 1870 (and I’m being generous here), if you’re reading this post, you’re the last point in a sequence of about 80,000 individuals. Isn’t that crazy? 80,000 generations that managed to create life before death.1

I like to believe that each of us is the result of a unique blend of skills and luck. Which of the two weighed more over the years? Hard to say. But it’s fascinating to think that each of our ancestors—way, way before us—mastered cognitive, social, and emotional skills. They likely used empathy, self-awareness, patience, positivity, and creativity, paired with luck, to make sure you happened.