The chance of rain is 40% right now. Later tonight, it will be 85%. According to a 1995 EPA report, global warming was "most likely to raise sea levels 15cm by the year 2050" (Titus and Narayanan 1995, 5). Twenty years on, the predictions are more dire (Guardian 2016). Prior to the Fukushim nuclear disaster, experts in the industry claimed with confidence that nuclear power plants were safer than ever and Japan was commonly used as the benchmark for earthquake preparedness. Today, the assessments are much less optimistic and scientists estimate that the world should expect a nuclear reactor accident every 10-20 years (Max-Planck-Gesellschaft 2012).
We are tempted to reduce the world that we live in to probabilities and risk calculations. There are a few reasons for that. First, probabilities are readily visible to policy makers and in providing a snippet of reality, they allow them to respond accordingly. Once 1997 proved the year when the ozone layer became demonstrably breached, the international community came together and took steps to reverse the damage.
Second, on a more individual level, once we can calculate risks, we can take appropriate measures. People who live in flood zones buy flood insurance. Conversely, Europeans do not insure their houses against hurricanes very often. So far...
Third, and building on the prior points, it is comforting to know that we have scoped out the threats, taken proper precautions and thus cannot be surprised. But have we? Can you think of what the flip side of the apparent advantages of the risk-based "streamlining" of problems we face as a society (local and global) might be? How reliable are those probability calculations and how much can we count on the corresponding solutions to actually work? What happens if they do not? Do these questions change how you view the image below?
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