We live in the safest moment in human history. We have mandatory seatbelts, side-curtain airbags, carbon monoxide detectors, bike helmets, and vaccinations against all forms of maladies.
We’ve wrapped ourselves in bubble wrap. But are we really any safer today?
What happened to the old-school jungle gym? And the round, metal spinner that was a staple on every playground? Every kid I know was tortured on that thing. What about the metal playground slide that would immediately deliver third degree burns in July. Where did these rights of passage go?
Growing up in Georgia, life was an adventure. Once we learned to ride a bicycle, the world was open for exploration: tunnels, sewers, abandoned buildings, construction sites and anywhere else we could venture. Yes, kids in my generation were like feral cats.
We rode our skateboards down steep hills at breakneck speeds without helmets. We pedaled bicycles over ramps made of plywood and cinder blocks. Usually, another kid would lay down so we could jump over them.
We played with matches, tried cigarettes, build raging bonfires, and did amazingly stupid things with bottle rockets and firecrackers. When it snowed, we walked on frozen ponds of questionable thickness and went sledding on private golf courses.
By every objective measure, life is less risky today. But what has that safety cost us? For generations, risk is how humans tested themselves. Young men learned to hunt and fish, to responsibly handle firearms, to create fire and to defend themselves.
Sure, we did some epicly dumb stuff as kids, but there was a point to it. These acts were rituals of courage. Small exposures to fear that seasoned us for the bigger challenges that lie ahead. Because, as you know, life is fraught with challenges that often seem insurmountable. Today, much of that risk has been sanitized, stripped away. Kids grow up with structured play under the constant supervision of adults. Or, alone in front of a screen. Yes, somewhere along the path to a safer world, we eliminated these rituals of courage. I doubt you could find a playground spinner or a jungle gym in the US.
Today’s young adults have little interest in driving. The number of sixteen-year-old drivers has fallen 45% since 1983. The number of teens having a sexual experience has dropped 32% since the early 1980’s. I’m not encouraging or condoning teen sex. I’m just making a point about risk. Maybe it’s because they don’t have a car or a backseat.
All this risk avoidance carries over into adulthood. Today we can track our steps, measure our resting heart rate, examine our sleep and collect all sorts of other health related data on rings, bands and watches. We are offered insurance on everything from smartphones to airline tickets. You can even insure your identity and your pets.
Yes, we’ve made life so risk-free that we may be raising a generation allergic to failure. Without risk, life becomes flat. No adventure. No uncertainty and no growth. A safe life might be long, but it’s also boring.
Think about your most vivid memories and biggest accomplishments. I’m betting they included at least some adventure. Some chance of failure. Nobody retells the story of the time they stayed home and went to bed early. Because the most exciting moments in life are just that: risky and adventurous.
We are advised in life to “be of good courage”. Because courage is what allows us to move forward, even when we are afraid. It doesn’t eliminate fear. It enables action when life presents challenges we’d otherwise avoid. To fight for something bigger than ourselves. To remember that while safety protects, risk and courage are what brings color to an otherwise monochrome life.
Tom Greene is a writer living in Atlanta, Georgia with his wife and loyal wiener dog, Maggie. His writing can be found at www.tomgreene.com. He can be reached at [email protected]
