The Search for Perfect Safety

So, Bush, I happened to be listening to the car radio with half an ear a couple of days ago, as ones does, you know, when driving, when the phrase jumped out at me: "the search for perfect safety." A nice one. The broadcaster was NPR--of course, what else would you expect from me by now?--and the person being interviewed was talking about the withdrawal of Vioxx from the market, and its subsequent banning by the Food & Drug Administration. The drift of his argument was that Vioxx and other, related drugs have enormous potential therapeutic value, despite their known--and unknown--risks; and that the decision about whether or not to use them should be the province of doctor and patient, not some government agency. It would be short-sighted, he suggested, to deprive all patients of a valuable source of pain relief just because some might be at higher risk.

I don't claim to know much about medications and their side effects, but I've been thinking a good deal about risk itself in recent days, particularly of course since the tsunami and, closer to home, the mudslide in La Conchita, California. We all live, to greater or lesser extent, at the mercy of Mother Nature. If not by disaster, she'll catch us by disease; or if not that, she'll certainly catch up with us in time. Age is nothing to her, and everything to us.

But I've been thinking too about that obsessive--some might say quixotic--American search for perfect safety, about the great, imponderable hazards we encounter every day of our lives, about the fears we carry around with us, and about how readily we allow them to be exploited. I've been thinking about your Department of Homeland Security, for example, Bush, in view of your latest appointment. And I've been thnking about all those crises you persist in alarming us with--in order, it would seem, to save us from them: the world-wide terrorist conspiracy (I'd love to see the new three-hour BBC special about the myth of Al Qaeda!); your weapons of mass destruction and the imminence of the threat from Saddam Hussein; and the imminent demise of the Social Security system as we know it, among others. You, Bush, have become quite the expert in exploiting our fears; and quite the hero, strutting your fearless leadership as you confront them, fearlessly. Trouble is, they all turn out to be illusions.

There's a curious illogic to our American attitude in the face of the dangers that indubitably surround us, if only because we happen to be mortal creatures. On the one hand, we run risks that to other peoples throughout history would have been unimaginable. We hurtle down freeways at eighty miles an hour, in blithe denial of the possible consequences. We allow access--virtually on demand--to weapons designed to kill a maximum number of humans in as short a time as possible, and then install metal detectors in our high schools (let alone our airports!) to protect ourselves against them. Against all odds, we fly continually through the air. We place men and women atop a tin can full of highly volatile explosive and launch them spectacularly into space. We are a marvelously adventurous and daring species.

And yet at the same time we fret immensely about safety, and spend inordinate amounts of time and money attempting to assure our invulnerability. We furnish our cars with seat belts and airbags, we equip our guns with safety locks. We examine every bag that goes on every airplane, and poke our women's breasts and crotch to be sure they're not boarding with explosives. We scrap valuable science projects in the effort to assure the perfect safety of those who knowingly and willingly devote their lives to the hazards of space flight. It's interesting, too, that our perceptions of safety change. A mere handful of years ago, we had no objection to people smoking in bars and restaurants. If they wanted to run the risk, we thought, on their heads be it. Now our knowledge base has changed: we know about the risks of second-hand smoke, and the banning of smoking indoors has come to seem a reasonable measure of protection for the rest of us.

It's all so odd. I know I risk beginning to sound like a libertarian on this issue, Bush, and you'll be laughing at me by now. But I have to say that I'm genuinely confused. On the one hand, it seems smart to vigorously fight those risks that pose a threat to us, as individuals or as a society. On the other hand, we're all too ready to take things to extremes, and be led around by the nose by those (including, in my view, your good self) who want to take advantage of our vulnerablity. Politically, ideologically, commercially...… Living on a network of earthquake faults, as we do here in California--and driving on the freeways--I know we have to settle for a certain amount of denial. On the other hand, foolhardiness in the face of danger is not the answer either. Perhaps, Bush, the answer lies somewhere in the area of that old chestnut, common sense--a quality that we seems in notably short supply at this moment in our history.

All of which said, life without risk would be a poor adventure, wouldn't it? Another paradox: perfect safety is likely not attainable without first plunging into risk. Having spent the better part of my life as a writer working principally with artists, I know enough about the creative mind to understand that risk is its primary advantage, the fuel on which it thrives and without which it doesn't even get its engines started. If we're not close to the edge of our intellect and abilty, we're nowhere. So here's my invitation to you, Bush: stop scaring us half to death and take a risk yourself. I mean, of course, an intelligent, thoughtful, meaningful, positive risk, not another foolhardy invasion. In the Middle East, for example. Stick your neck out. You might find that no one will chop your head off after all. It will take some big risks to arrive at peace.