Risk Assessment

I don’t think of myself as someone who takes unnecessary risks. I don’t ride my bike without a helmet. I don’t smoke. I don’t frequent narrow and unlit places at night. I will do most things reasonably in my power to ensure my safety.

I was recently looking for a place to live and I found one near my work that I could afford. It’s actually a very nice location on the corner of a wide, well-lit and well-travelled street. It is, however, within the limits of a city neighborhood that some people consider to be unsafe. I have my suspicions that this perception has a large basis in fear and exaggeration, fueled by suburbanite mistrust of low-income and high-black areas. I have lived here for six weeks and my gut feeling of safety has suffered no erosion on either a conscious or subconscious level.

Now, given the vigilance of my behavior, my risk of being randomly attacked is realistically only infinitesimally more on my street than in any other urban area. But there are some that would say that even such a slight reduction in personal risk as moving to another neighborhood could afford me would be worth expense and the inconvenience.

Here’s where I disagree, and this brings me to how I think of risk. None of these people is considering that risk is not only confined to physical considerations. We also have to look at the metaphysical risks involved. Do I want to risk becoming the sort of person who lives in fear? Do I want to risk becoming unaccustomed to interacting with people of another race? Can I afford the risk of considering my personal safety more important than that of the men, women and children who call this neighborhood home?

A metaphysical view of risk can apply to so many other situations. The point is, if our risk aversion leads us to extremes in seeking comfort and security, we run the risk of leading dull and meaningless lives. We risk ignorance. We risk selfishness. We risk regret.

Tread carefully.