Embracing the Temporary: Rethinking the Lifespan of Software and Human Artifacts
Introduction: The Human Fear of Negativity. Humans have a well-documented bias: we fear the negative more than we enjoy the positive. This phenomenon, known as “negativity bias,” is grounded in evolutionary psychology. Research shows that negative experiences often leave a deeper mark on us than positive ones. Psychologist Roy Baumeister, along with others, has explored how we react more strongly to threats than rewards because, evolutionarily speaking, our survival depended on it.
This bias not only shapes our reactions to daily events, but also extends to how we think about life itself. Our limited lifespan, for example, is something we inherently fear. We are drawn to things that seem to transcend us, from the stars in the sky to the gods we create. Eternity, in all its abstract glory, offers comfort against the idea that everything—especially us—will one day cease to exist.
The Idealization of Permanence. Humans tend to glorify things that last beyond their lives. We look up to celestial bodies that have existed for millions of years, idealizing the concept of permanence. We create religions and gods that promise eternity. In many ways, we see longevity as a symbol of success or worth. The pyramids of Egypt, ancient civilizations, and enduring works of art are revered precisely because they have outlasted generations.
On the other hand, we tend to dismiss or judge things with shorter lifespans as transient, fleeting, and somehow less valuable. Whether it's fashion trends or the latest tech gadget, the shorter the lifespan, the less respect we seem to afford it. But what if this obsession with longevity isn't as productive as we think? What if, instead, we could learn to celebrate impermanence?
Rethinking the Lifespan of Software. This idealization of permanence is extremely evident in the way we design and build systems, especially software. We create software systems as if they are meant to last forever, forgetting that they too have a limited timespan. We aim high – for stability, and sustainability, yet the rapid pace of technological change means that much of what we build today will be obsolete in a few years.
Yet, we don't plan for this obsolescence. We patch, update, and extend systems, often making them more complex and difficult to maintain. Rarely do we build software with deprecation in mind, with a structured plan for its eventual retirement. But perhaps we should. Software, like everything else, has a life cycle. It serves its purpose, and then it's time for it to go.
A New Mindset: Designing for Temporality. What if we could shift our mindset and design things with the understanding that they are inherently temporary? Software systems would be written with their end in mind, designed to be replaced, recycled, or discarded without unnecessary complexity. This approach would lead to simpler, more modular designs, built to do a job and then gracefully step aside for whatever comes next.
Rather than clinging to the outdated and obsolete, we could celebrate the lifecycle of our creations. By acknowledging and embracing the limited timespan of software, we would not only ease the burden of maintaining legacy systems but also foster innovation. After all, if we know something will eventually be replaced, we are less afraid to experiment, to take risks, and to iterate.
Rethinking Technical Debt. Much has been written and discussed about the concept of “technical debt.” Like financial debt, it is often seen as something to be avoided—a burden that must eventually be repaid. The term alone conjures negative associations, triggering fears of future complications, instability, and looming costs. Teams often dread tech debt, viewing it as a ticking time bomb that could lead to system failure if not properly “paid off” through refactoring or updates.
But what if we could rethink technical debt as less of a liability and more of a strategic investment? When we take on technical debt, we are not simply cutting corners or neglecting best practices. Instead, we are making a deliberate choice to prioritize the present over the future. It’s not about disregarding quality—it’s about understanding that the most optimal solution today may not be the most optimal solution tomorrow.
In this way, technical debt can be seen as a conscious decision to opt for the “less-than-ideal” in a specific timeframe, rather than aiming at some abstract notion of permanent perfection. In fact, striving for perfection in software can often lead to stagnation, as the quest for the “perfect” solution can delay delivery and reduce agility. Tech debt, then, allows us to ship products, solve immediate problems, and adapt as circumstances evolve.
Investing in Change. Viewed through this lens, technical debt is less about fear and more about flexibility. It acknowledges that the software we build today is not designed to last forever. By taking on tech debt strategically, we accept that future systems may need to evolve, be rewritten, or be replaced altogether. This isn’t a flaw—it’s part of the process. The key is not to eliminate technical debt but to manage it wisely, knowing that it is an investment in short-term progress and agility.
If we embrace the temporary nature of software, we can also change how we view tech debt. Rather than fearing it, we can see it as a necessary trade-off that allows us to move quickly and adapt to change. In doing so, we shift the conversation from “how do we eliminate tech debt?” to “how can we make smart investments in tech debt, knowing that nothing we build is meant to last forever?”
Celebrating the Temporary in Life and Creation. Ultimately, the idea of temporary software reflects a broader lesson about life. Rather than fearing our limited time, we could learn to embrace and even celebrate it. Our lives, like the things we create, are temporary. This is not a weakness, but a feature. The impermanence of things makes them valuable, just as the ephemeral nature of moments makes them precious.
By shifting our perspective, both in life and in our work, we can find joy in the temporary and recognize the beauty in transience. There is no need to fear what is fleeting—whether it’s software or our own lives. Instead, we should honor the impermanence that defines everything we touch and create.
Conclusion: Embracing Ephemerality. In an age where technological and cultural landscapes are constantly shifting, it is more important than ever to let go of our attachment to permanence. By designing for temporality, both in software and in life, we can create systems and live lives that are more adaptable, resilient, and ultimately more fulfilling. The end is not something to fear—it is something to plan for, to honor, and to celebrate.