Good grief: the psychology of mourning

There have been a worrying number of high profile deaths of late. First there was Paul Walker, yesterday we lost both Peter O’Toole and Joan Fontaine, even Brian the dog from Family guy died (sort of). Most high-profile of all was of course the recent passing of Nelson Mandela.

High-profile deaths like these result in all manner of reactions the world over, and these can become quite formulaic, in that there seem to be a number of stock reactions in the media and online (these days at least).

Obviously you get those who make tasteless jokes whenever someone dies, although I have noticed a relative absence of this in the most recent cases. Peter O’Toole’s hell-raiser reputation probably defeats most cynical jokers, and Joan Fontaine’s peak of fame was a while ago making relatable jokes difficult. As for Mandela, it’s likely that his reputation was too much even for the super-cynics to risk mocking. I’m sure there are many out there with dozens of offensive jokes ready to tweet, but all of them are waiting for someone else to get away with it first. They could be there a while.

But for most of these recent passings, especially Mandela, the “correct” thing to say is hard to work out. None of the stock responses seems to fit.

“He was so young”. No, he really wasn’t.

“It was so unexpected”. Not really, he was nearly a century old and in ill health for quite some time.

“He left so much undone”. Definitely not, it’s hard to imagine an individual who accomplished more in the time allotted to him.

Obviously with a high-profile figure who had such a lasting impact on the world, this is further complicated by the effects of his life and works. People of political persuasions of all sorts were praising his memory and invoking it as an excuse to attack those they disagree with in the same breath (or tweet if you prefer). Praising Mandela’s legacy of tolerance and forgiveness as an example to everyone before declaring that David Cameron was a “nasty word” who previously said Mandela was a terrorist is, even if valid, demonstrates neither tolerance nor forgiveness.

But even if it’s not an influential person, like a world leader or an A-list celebrity, the grieving process is complicated. It is a well-studied psychiatric phenomenon. There are strong links between depression and grief and grief has many well-known stages, such as the classic anger, denial, bargaining etc, or the four phases which can follow when a person actually has died, as proposed by John Bowlby. There are known therapies and strategies for limiting the impact of intense grief, and grief that lasts too long can be considered pathological and requires intervention.

However, all this is usually applied to terminal patients and/or those close to them. When the grief is not of a sort typically accepted by society, then it is known as disenfranchised grief. This is grief that many wouldn’t expect you to experience and/or wouldn’t be particularly sympathetic if you did. For example, I’d be surprised to hear if anyone in the UK took compassionate leave because they were so affected by Nelson Mandela’s passing. Even if they genuinely were that affected, it would be an incredibly lenient boss who would allow time off for it. When someone suffers an illness or loss that is less than terminal, such as a marriage breakdown, sensory impairment or even loss of a home or residence, these things can cause grief that isn’t exactly tolerated by others.

If you can’t go through the normal, prolonged grieving process, you usually find another way to process it. Humans have seemingly evolved the grieving process for a variety of purposes, such as increasing social attachment that enhances survival. As a result, even if you’re not even remotely linked to a recently deceased person, it feels the done thing to at least respectfully and publicly acknowledge their passing.

And here’s where things get tricky. How do you go about respecting the views and principles of someone you didn’t actually know? A media portrayal of a person is often far removed from them, if they're lucky (or unlucky) enough to have one. So an individual is left with the option of doing or saying something that conforms to their impression of the deceased. Whatever this is, it is often justified with the phrase “it’s what they would have wanted”. Presumably this typically means what they would have wanted if they hadn’t died, but it’s very unlikely anyone would want someone to mourn them before they died, as that’s just weird.

Obviously, what you think the person would have wanted will differ from what someone else thinks they would have wanted. One person’s caring tribute is another’s desecration. And when this happens it’s hard to deny that “It’s what they would have wanted” suggests a caveat, as in “it’s what they would have wanted … if they were different in some way”, which defeats the point somewhat. And it seems the safest option is to do nothing, but that in itself seems more disrespectful to many. Really, the only person who likely doesn’t mind anyway is the person who’s died, for obvious reasons.

Grief is necessary but complicated. Combine it with politics, the global media and the current social networking age, and there’s no telling where you’ll end up. The best you can do is make some aloof observations about it on a niche blog on a mainstream news website. After all, it’s what they would have wanted.

Dean Burnett is available for eulogies. He can be followed on Twitter, @garwboy

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