Why things have to do things

I was thinking about something from a flight I took a few days ago. Across the aisle from me was a three- or four-year-old boy with his mom. I sensed that it was the kid’s first flight, or at least the first one he was conscious of. He was really excited to look out the window, and he had a lot of questions about the plane. 

One question stuck out. He kept asking his mom, “Why did it have to do that?” whenever the plane did anything strange. We hit some turbulence at one point. The plane shook and made the usual turbulence noises. “Why did it have to do that?” he asked, with a concerned look on his face. Same deal when we had a slightly rough landing. The plane jarred to a semi-halt and gave everybody a surprise. “Why did it have to do that?”

I realized the kid was still living in the comfortable but illusory world of childhood in which everything happens for a reason. He imagined intent in everything he experienced. I hated to think of him growing older and finding that things just happen. It’s a talk that the parents never give explicitly, but which kids get the gist of eventually: “Sorry, Billy, but the world is outside anyone’s control or purpose, and there’s often no sense to be made of anything.”

It was hard for me to catch what the mother was telling her son. It sounded like she was basically saying, “Well, that’s turbulence from when the air moves around.” But she most definitely was not answering why the plane had to do that. She was ignoring the real thrust of the kid’s question. I could tell the answer wasn’t totally satisfying to him. Part of his entire conception of the world—that nothing would happen unless it was god-damned necessary for the proper functioning of the universe—was left wanting for reinforcement.

It would really be great if all the weird, unpleasant, inexplicable things that happen to us were in fact necessary for the proper functioning of the universe, and if we could somehow get those answers:

“Why did my bank have to become insolvent and lose my entire life savings?”
“Because that’s going to make the Earth rotate today!”

“Why did my girlfriend have to meet a dashing Bosnian male model on her Peace  Corps trip?”
“Because that’s going to give them a nice sunny afternoon in Omaha!”

“Why did I have to get cancer on my eyeball?”
“Because that’s how zebras get their stripes!”

It would be very comforting, wouldn’t it? I mean, you wouldn’t be so upset about your house burning down if you knew it had to do that in order for the world to have ice cream. There may be some kind of cosmic order like this. After all, the universe is a closed system that was all contained in one pinprick 12–15 billion years ago. Maybe everything good functions on something bad. So maybe that time you got two flat tires on the interstate was necessary for me to have a really great steak for dinner that night.