danger [ˈdeɪndʒə]

Danger is a condition. A state in which the potential and imminent implications of a risk or threat are turned into the actual exposure to peril. Whereas risk provides opportunities to take counteractions and precautions, a person who is in danger is directly exposed to the possibility of injury, loss or damage. Risk is controllable and dirigible. Risk can be eluded, restricted. Danger, however, is a little less lenient. Danger is evil.

And the evil can wear most diverse gowns. Today it may appear as the incarnate portrait of the depraved, dressed in the black cloak of human malice. Tomorrow it might dance impetuously around the corner as a smug beau called cataclysm.

No matter which of the forms of evil may afflict us, one thing comes always with it: its draconian grip, its relentless breath that it blows into our defenseless necks and the stifling severity of its company. And to make it even worse, evil is probably the smartest symbiont we can find. Its host? Human vulnerability. Death. Eliminate the latter, and the evil will die a wretched death itself. No death, no danger. No danger, no evil.

Personally, I can live with the brothers Danger & Evil as long as there is no human intention behind them. Natural catastrophes? Well, what can we do? Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. Accidents? Drive carefully. Wear a helmet. Mind the gap. Illness? Quit smoking, and stock up with the greens. And, last but not least, add a good dash of luck.

When it comes to the human form of evil and the danger attached to it, however, I lose my footing. To me it remains uncertain if the Homo Malignus cultivates the images of its selves to serve the ideas we have of it, or if it has established itself within them as one of its numerous identities.

Nothing is more dangerous to a human than mankind itself. The tables have long turned. The Homo Sapiens is the hunter, not the hunted, and the comprehension of human fears and anxieties alone can stage the cruelest barbarities. Someone who is able to relate to the effects of a disaster, can create the greatest calamity and terror we can possibly imagine.

And yet or maybe because of the above, we remain the only species to thrive on the kick that comes with risks. We are lucky enough to look at the world through a kaleidoscope of humanity and to live in cultural, moral, political, social and economic civilisation, and thus we have systems at hand that help us control risks to such an extend that only rarely we face situations of danger.

We are relatively safe which is why our subchallenged brains creatively create all sorts of innovative anxieties. We are afraid of clowns, butterflies and germs. And every now and then the adrenaline junkies among us indulge themselves in a bit of risk. No risk, no fun. Ego trips to the land of adrenaline, serotonin and endorphins. High speed, great heights, long distances - only to dangle on an alleged string (or a parachute) for a couple of highly thrilled moments, in which our bodies recreate the cocktail of hormones that once helped us to survive - back when we were the hunted and a middle link in the food chain.

All in all, it is clearly evident that most of us are so privileged that the lack of danger lets us crave for risk, and that the common collocation of the terms risk and fun doesn't sound depraved in our silken ears.

Danger is a condition.

Danger is a condition that I have been conditioned to fear.

Fear is something that I have been conditioned to fight.

So, to me danger is something that shall be fought.

Danger is a state - but shall not become a state of mind.

"Life can be magnificent and overwhelming - That is its whole tragedy. Without beauty, love, or danger it would almost be easy to live." ~ Albert Camus (An Absurd Reasoning, 1942)