During summer, we would frequently go visit my wife’s grandmas summer cottage located near Levänen, some 45 km off Lappeenranta, in Eastern Finland. Grandma owns a few-acres farm with a main house, a barn, and a few other smaller buildings.
One thing would always make me feel uncomfortable while visiting there was the presence of a shotgun in the house. I knew of its existence because my wife told me during one my first times there. Grandma would keep it because it was known that the area could have, from time to time, packs of wolves roaming around. But also, the place was so remote that, I guess, it was a safety measure in case of any unwanted company. Still, upon our arrival every time, I would go and check in Grandma’s bedroom that the shotgun was far away enough from reach.
One day, we were visiting like any other summer. I remembered thinking to myself “check the shotgun right after we arrive”. But, somehow, I didn’t. I cannot remember what exactly distracted me, but I went to take a seat in the living room right away, perhaps lured by the delicious food that was already on the table. While other in-laws sat around the table, I was somewhat cornered to a wall, without an easy way out, which gave me a strategic positioning for the cake but was an unusual situation for me because I would always try to be free to stand up to go and check what the kids were doing. I remember thinking “it’s time that I let the kid be a bit freer, he’s five already, so I will chill and enjoy the cuisine”. After a while, I couldn’t really help it so I decided it was enough freedom for the little ones, so I bothered the person next to me to let me pass so I could go and see what the kids were up to.
I arrived at the bedroom only to see my kid with the shotgun in his hands, pointing at me. I remember him saying “pew! pew!” a few times—I do not remember the sound of the trigger though, so I am not sure if he pulled it or not—before my brain processed the fact he was wielding a real weapon. He was holding the shotgun; the one I was so uncomfortable about, the one so many times I told myself to go triple check. I immediately took it from his hands and put it somewhere safe. I could see in his eyes he perceived something was wrong, probably because I must’ve looked as white as a ghost out of the panic of seeing him manipulating a real gun. The incident left me shaken, perplexed, and profoundly aware on how close we were from a horrible disaster. Moreover, the incident left me furious with myself for a long time, and I do not think I will ever forgive myself for such a mistake. After the incident, a question started to burn me (and still does):
Why on earth didn’t I follow the usual “procedure” of checking if the gun was out of reach? What was more important than ensuring no lethal weapons could reach my kid’s hands? Why did I let myself get distracted from the utmost important thing in the entire galaxy as my kid’s safety is?
It was a near miss. It could’ve been a disaster of horrible consequences. But it wasn’t. Things could have gone horribly wrong. But they didn’t. Why? I can’t tell. Chance, mostly. My kid is safe and unharmed. His cousin is safe and unharmed. I am safe and unharmed.
Now, a few days have gone by, and I am watching my kid and his cousin playing with water guns next to a pond in another summer cottage we rented for a few days near Sulkava. I watch them from a few meters away as they seem to be having a great time in a hot summer day, blissfully unaware of anything related to risk, probability or the differences between real guns from toy guns. All in all, I am watching kids being kids. As I stand there, I think the fact my kid was able to lay a finger on that gun is enough failure of the whole process. Let alone wield it, fucking let alone pull the trigger. It went far. It went too damn far.
What are near misses?
A near miss refers to a situation in which an event or incident almost occurs but does not result in any harm, injury, or damage. It can be described as a “close call” or a narrowly averted accident. In other words, a near miss is a situation where the potential for harm exists, but by chance or timely intervention, the negative outcome is prevented.
A group of people gathers at a distance from an old clothing factory in the Czech Republic to watch it get demolished. Just as the charges are detonated, a stray chunk of masonry flies from the collapsing building, narrowly missing the group of boom-gawkers. When watching the slo-mo, it is obvious that, had the chunk of concrete hit the onlookers, it would have instantly killed them. Luckily for these folks, it missed. Barely.
On the flip side, think of cellist Mike Edwards, 62, and an early member of the Electric Light Orchestra. As Mr. Edwards drives his van around the A381 in Halwell, Devon, United Kingdom, some hundreds of meters up a hill, a 600 kg bale of hay falls from a tractor and starts rolling downhill. The timing between Mr. Edwards’ van and the hay couldn’t have been more perfect (or imperfect, depending how you want to see it), and the massive bale crushes his van, killing him instantly. For Mike Edwards, there was no near miss. He won the anti-lottery. Had Mr. Edwards gone for another toast during breakfast or stopped to tie his shoelaces on his way out, and he could’ve been telling this story over a pint in a pub.
I enjoyed years ago the luck Mr. Edwards did not enjoy.
Circa 2006, and I am walking down Moreno Street in Montserrat neighborhood, in downtown Buenos Aires. I was planning to have a sandwich for lunch and there I was, heading to my favorite sandwich place, minding my own business, when I heard a loud sound right behind me. When I turned around, I saw a small cloud of whitish dust. Once the dust settled, I saw that a big piece of concrete from above had fallen, just a few meters behind me. In fact, it was almost half of a balcony three floors up that had plummeted. Known for its picturesque yet old, poorly maintained buildings, Montserrat and San Telmo neighborhoods force you to walk under these decaying balconies due to the narrow sidewalks. Had I left my workplace 5 or 6 seconds earlier, that concrete piece would’ve landed on my beanie. And I probably wouldn’t be writing these lines right now.
Now, was that a near miss? In a way, it was. But, in another way, I had no control on it, just like Mike Edwards did not have any control on the rolling bale. How could I know the decay of the materials that made that 100-years old balcony would give up at that exact time? I had no control on any variable in this situation. In fact, there might have been other near misses of such kind in my life I am completely unaware of. This is purely stochastic and as such is out of our control.
Near misses have a different taste when it’s a combination of deterministic and stochastic processes. I did have a lot of control on checking for the gun before sitting to eat cake. I was aware of the risk, and I circumvented the activity which would have minimized such risk. By neglecting the activities I should have performed on the deterministic side of the chain of events, I provided a clear path into the stochastic side with my dangerous negligence. The guy witnessing the building being demolished could’ve stayed home watching a movie, but he decided to go to a place where explosive charges would be used to bring a massive building down. Still on the deterministic side, he (an others) purposely decided to stay at an insufficient distance from the events. He consciously put himself in the hands of probabilities. The fact his head is still in one piece is the stochastic—read, lucky—combination of his position and the dynamics of the collapsing building which created the piece of debris which could have decapitated him but didn’t.
C’est la vie (I guess)
Near misses are puzzling because life appears to continue just like nothing has happened. From certain perspective, nothing has in fact happened: there are no injuries, no blood, no hospitals or funeral houses involved. Still, all the mechanics of an accident were at play. Risks materialized to the fullest, and it was just a matter of chances at the end of the chain which defined that we are talking about people getting hurt or not. Near misses are real-life, full-scale simulacrums of accidents.
But near misses are—or at least should be—transformative if you happen to witness one. They surely broadcast a sense of fragility and how the line between normal life and disaster is thin and being redrawn all the time. Near misses force us to reflect on how lucky we were this time and how we must be more cautious and attentive in the future on the things we can deterministically control if we want to prevent it from happening again.
Of course unless you want to take the mystic interpretation of a near miss, with a “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” type of narrative, believing an “angel guardian” or “good karma” is protecting you. Typically, those who believe are protected by ‘holy spirits’ may tell the stories of near misses in an epic way, completely missing the point and the opportunity to learn a lesson.
Relief is one of the best feelings in the world. But, in general, relief is a strong indication that something should have done better. Otherwise, history will repeat itself.