No one could call these the best of times - the direst economic figures for fifty years, the grimmest climatic prospects for ten thousand. Troubles that play upon our fear of the unknown, like the potential flu pandemic, and troubles we know all too well: Iraq, Sudan, Afghanistan, North Korea... We are far away from that blissful era, a mere eighty years ago, when the BBC could announce to a waiting nation and Empire, "the news tonight: there is no news tonight."

Yet, on closer inspection, these are the best of times - or very close to them. Despite the many dangers we see around us, we are, on average, longer lived, better fed, better educated, and safer than we have ever been. Famine, disease, war, natural disasters, industrial accidents, death on the road, rails, or in the air - we have less personally to fear from all of these than at any time in human history. Why, then, are we sleeping so badly?

1) Too much knowledge. The fear in Russian roulette stems from knowing that there's a cartridge in the chamber; this knowledge skews our sense of chance, since even small probabilities remain possible. Take the case of air travel, for instance. Each American who flies is playing a life-long game of Russian roulette with one bullet and 19,999 empty chambers – but each American also knows the details of every air accident worldwide, which makes a potential disaster feel familiar and therefore likely (in what's called the "availability heuristic"). Moreover, we are surrounded by media whose success depends on making our fears appear real: no reporter wants to supply the headline "Small Earthquake in Chile, Not Many Dead." In a noisy world, scary stories travel better.

2) The framing effect: the better things are, the worse potential trouble seems. Just as no-one, however rich, feels he has quite enough money, no amount of security can never make us feel entirely safe. We notice the pea under the mattress because, recently, we have been living like princesses.

 
Moreover, we are surrounded by media whose success depends on making our fears appear real: no reporter wants to supply the headline "Small Earthquake in Chile, Not Many Dead." In a noisy world, scary stories travel better. ”


3) Softening of the heart to the point of flabbiness: a lack of real hardship has made us cheapen the currency of joy and tears. We weep at the expulsion of contestants from reality shows; we hail as "heroes" people – like, say, Captain Sullenberger – who rightly point out that they were only doing their jobs. We wrap our soldiers and sports figures alike in the kind of sentimental mist that used to be reserved for motherhood (and apple pie).

Worst of all, we abuse the idea of tragedy, applying it indiscriminately to all bad things alike. In doing so, we forget the lesson that the Greeks taught when they came up with it: that the most poignant disasters are the direct result of flaws in character, not of chance. Nature's randomness is not the enemy; we are betrayed by what is false within.

Character, therefore, is fate; to secure a better fate, we need work on ourselves, not just our circumstances. If any of the things we fear comes true because our flaws – our pettiness, our self-absorption – prevented us from getting together, getting organized, and dealing with it… well, that would be tragic.

Credit: Michael Kaplan.