“Life is hard,” goes the saying, “and then you die.” It’s a succinct and blunt way to express that life is dangerous. In the last year (thanks to the highly excitable media) you may have gotten the impression that life is more dangerous than it used to be. 

Ebola, the sudden rise of Daesh (more commonly called ISIS), the disappearance of Malaysian Airlines flight 370, the conflict in Ukraine: all these give the impression that our world is more fractured, violent and deadly than ever before. 

To be honest, I’m somewhat unsure as to why everyone is freaking out. For one thing, the world isn’t necessarily more dangerous. More unstable, certainly, but death hides amongst everyday occurrences. 

The daily commute to work puts you at risk of being one of the approximately 34,000 killed on U.S. roads every year. Death by scalding, falling or drowning can await you in the bathroom. Forgetting to empty the lint filter on your dryer could lead to a fire that destroys your house and you with it. 

I don’t mean to be overly moribund, but we have to face the facts: even the most humdrum facets of our lives can bring about an untimely demise. After all, on average two people a year die from being crushed by vending machines.

So why, if death is so ubiquitous, are we so afraid of the “Ebolas” of this world? It may have something to do with something called “the safety paradox.” Essentially, we are afraid because we are no longer accustomed to danger, to death. 

As Hans Boutellier describes in his book, “De Veiligheidsutopie” (“The Safety Utopia”), the safer a country and society, the more frightened its people are. We are scared of Ebola, of Daesh, of terrorism because we have no control over their outcomes. 

Although, for example, driving puts you at risk of being killed, you feel safer in a car because there are many factors that you can control to reduce the likelihood of death. You can buy a car that performs well in crash tests. You can put your seatbelt on before you set off. If the weather turns for the worse, you can adapt to the changing conditions. 

In other words, as Carola Houtekamer and Arlen Poort explain in their article “A safe country is a scared land,” we take solace in being able to control a small part of our fate. “Terror,” they suggest, “is like having a dark thundercloud above you. You cannot help but ask yourself if you will be struck by lightning.” (Lightning accounts for about 30 deaths a year in the U.S.) Like dying in a terrorist attack, the likelihood of being struck by lightning at any point in your life is infinitesimally small (1 in 12,000). Getting hysterical about odds that small is meaningless and will do nothing to improve your chances of controlling the outcome. 

You could, of course, quit your job, pack up your house, and move to a remote corner west of nowhere in the hope that nothing bad will ever happen to you. Aside from the fact that your house is essentially a death-trap, you could be pretty safe. And even if you survive, quip Houtekamer and Poort, “That’s a sure-fire way to ruin your life.”

When it comes to terrorism, organizations like Daesh thrive on the confusion and violence of fear. According to Edwin Bakker, “terrorism-induced hysteria is itself an invitation to be terrorized.” Unfortunately, this particular symptom is readily apparent in the U.S., where the specter of 9/11 still looms large. 

This does not mean to say that we shouldn’t be vigilant about terrorism. We should anticipate the worst but, in our actions, show that we expect the best. The same should be said for Ebola and other calamities. Needless worry benefits no one—calm, careful and considerate thought is what we need in a time of crisis.