Deep Survival: Who Lives, Who Dies, and Why

The author recalls working on a massive Navy ship, the Carl Vinson, which he describes as “long as the Empire State building is tall” (21), with 6,000 people on board. Along with his colleagues, Gonzales watched as a military jet approached to land on the ship’s short runway. That pilot faced incredible risk as he hurtled toward the deck, but the landing went smoothly. The author lauds the pilot for his equanimity amid frightening circumstances. He claims only 10-20% of people can remain composed during emergencies, yet composure is key to survival. In one tragedy that unfolded on the Carl Vinson, a pilot misjudged the runway and crashed into the tail of the boat, killing his colleague. However, the red warning lights and repeated radio calls should have prevented this tragedy, and panic may have caused the pilot’s brain to shut out vital new information. This common reaction in emergencies is the “mystery” the author wants to solve (26).

Gonzales argues that high-pressure situations, like flying planes, not only increase emotionality but also decrease rational thought. Like reflexes, emotions are primal responses that humans evolved for survival. Some emotions prepare the body for action by changing digestion and blood circulation. Gonzales admits he has experienced a kind of “tunnel vision” while flying, making it impossible to really engage with certain tasks, such as running through checklists (29). His military training helps him understand that anytime he is in danger, his mind is “in a profoundly altered state” (30).

The author again differentiates between emotion and cognition, likening them to a horse (emotion) and a jockey (cognition); to run well, they both need each other (33). Emotions can fuel powerful unconscious responses. For example, one hiker managed to lift a 500lb rock off himself in a moment of extreme stress (33). Since emotional responses can help our survival, people shouldn’t disregard them entirely, but learn how to balance them with calm cognition.

Gonzales explains the two types of emotions: primary, such as seeking food or grabbing something while falling, and secondary, which are often primary emotions rewired to fit new situations. For example, soldiers in World War I learned to crouch reflexively when they heard a shell whistling overhead.

Both primary and secondary emotions can create a fear reaction. Fear involves a region of the brain called the amygdala, which one neuroscientist calls “the centerpiece of the defense system” (36). This triggers the release of chemicals such as cortisol, adrenaline, and epinephrine. Cortisol, also released in stressful situations, particularly suppresses the hippocampus, which is crucial for making and storing memories. As such, stress and fear make it difficult for people to perform complex tasks or even accurately perceive reality. Human emotional responses are the result of millions of years of evolution and have not caught up to modern-day challenges, such as landing military aircraft on ships.

The author recalls an experience as a rookie pilot landing his plane when he received a warning not to land. He was so focused on the landing that his brain blocked out the message until his co-pilot punched him in the arm to get his attention. Over time, Gonzales developed his ability to balance his emotional responses with reason.

He argues that one key aspect of achieving such a balance is humor. Extreme hobbies and professions tend to develop distinct subcultures that have their own brand of gallows humor, and this humor allows them to cope with their own injuries and mortality, as well as other disturbing experiences. Gonzales argues that laughter “makes the feeling of being threatened manageable” by dulling negative emotions such as fear and pain (41).

Gonzales relays a story about 20 snowmobilers in Alberta, Canada, who rescued three stranded people on a mountain in winter. On their way back, two of the snowmobilers acted against instructions and decided to “hammer-head” one of the mountain slopes, a trick that involved driving their snowmobiles quickly up the side and back down again. Unfortunately, this triggered an avalanche that killed two of the group. Gonzales questions why people act against reason and better judgment to do such reckless things, especially when they have a good understanding of the risks.

He attributes this kind of behavior to people acting on secondary, or learned, emotions. The snowmobilers had previously experienced a powerful, pleasurable rush through “hammer-heading,” and that rush became a “somatic marker,” or physical memory; on the Alberta mountain, their brains were overcome by the desire to experience that sensation again (49). Humans evolved these “unconscious operations of the brain” for the sake of efficiency; somatic markers help us quickly act on basic survival functions such as eating and drinking rather than painstakingly reasoning out each action we take. Gonzales explains that these powerful markers can trigger behavior without “the assistance of logic or reason” (52), meaning that people—such as the snowmobilers—can act without really thinking at all.

Gonzales acknowledges that these human instincts usually help us by working in tandem with logic and reason, but in extreme conditions, they can become a “trap” (55). A human who feels like they are suffocating naturally desires to uncover their mouth and nose, but this can lead to tragedy when a panicking diver with air still in their tank removes their oxygen regulator and drowns.

The author considers how people intrinsically separate themselves from their environments. Their immune systems kill anything unfamiliar or threatening. Over time, immune systems can adapt to changes in their environments. People’s emotions also protect them and prompt them to avoid negative experiences and pursue positive ones. Like physical immunity, emotions are adaptable and shaped through experience. Humans shape their emotions through trial and error, such as when a baby learns to walk. This process helps people understand the consequences of their behavior. Humans inherently pursue play and moderately stressful situations to learn effectively, since “risk is an integral part of life and learning” (62). While people gain valuable knowledge through this “risk-reward loop,” its lessons persist only in the form of emotion, not reason (62). Gonzales revisits his example about the snowmobiling avalanche to argue that multiple “emotional bookmarks” can converge to create irrational decisions.

Neuroscientists are still working to understand the physiological implications of fear. Gonzales claims that the amygdala is largely responsible for the brain’s fear response, and that it tends to react easily to any potentially threatening stimuli. He compares the amygdala to a reactive dog that always barks when people come to the door. The neocortex, a brain region associated with reason and higher thinking, also responds to these stimuli, but because it reacts after the amygdala, “rational, or conscious, thought always lags behind the emotional reaction” (65). While people can manage their emotional reactions once they become conscious of them, it takes practice to recognize one’s emotions, clearly perceive reality, and correct inappropriate reactions with better choices. Gonzales claims 90% of people cannot think clearly under stress, and even some elite performers get rattled under pressure.

The author explains that implicit (unconscious) and explicit (conscious) learning are distinct from each other. Implicit memories may not even be accessible to our conscious, thinking brains. Stress can prompt people to rely too much on implicit thinking, which makes them panic and respond on instinct, or explicit thinking, which makes them overthink the situation and “choke”(67).

The author compares the brain to an internet search engine, always looking for quick answers. Emotional bookmarks, or somatic markers, are one of the brain’s mechanisms for finding an answer. Another is to create “mental models,” or “stripped-down schematics of the world” (71). Humans use these mental models as a kind of shortcut for interacting with the world, rather than perceiving their surroundings in full. For example, when looking for something with a certain color or shape, the brain can screen out what it deems “irrelevant” information. These mental models rely on working memory, which can retrieve things from long-term memory and hold a few things at once, but easily becomes overwhelmed if too many things demand its attention. This state of overwhelm can even affect disciplined people with familiar routines. Gonzales points to a professional climber who got distracted as she was preparing for a climb and only partially tied her harness’s knot, causing her to fall 72 feet.

The world is confusing and unpredictable, so mental models tend to be highly simplified and reductive. Under stress, people can deny information that contradicts their models’ “expected reality” (75). Gonzales admits he once caved to his own simplistic mental model when snowboarding in a blizzard, leading his daughter down a mountain to where a ski lodge would normally be and completely forgetting this particular lodge sat on the mountaintop. His daughter corrected him, and they adjusted their course. Mental models often encourage people to focus on a specific method for the task at hand, causing them to miss obvious clues outside their mental spotlight. In an emergency, it is crucial to keep a broad awareness and accept different cues. Gonzales writes, “Some people update their models better than others. They’re called survivors” (82).