The best books to navigate risk, fear, danger, and decision-making in humanitarian work

I laughed at Kahneman’s straightforward explanation of how my brain works without making me feel stupid. Apparently, humanness is normal, thank goodness.

He explains the complexities of System 1 and 2 thinking through storytelling, demonstrating what he is teaching about how our brains work. Even though I’d learned about these concepts through academic reading, I now feel like I “get it,” although even that statement is a product of both System 1 and 2 thinking and availability bias. Key takeaways: Intelligence and rationality are not the same, and the research is so substantial in how Systems 1 and 2 work that disbelief is not an option!

Reading this book a second time, I felt my anger growing from a lifetime of hearing the Church’s teaching on fear: “Ignore it.” This is at least negligence and, at worst, abuse. De Becker makes it abundantly clear that we should listen to our fear (he differentiates it from anxiety) and learn to trust the inner voice (intuition).

We are “experts” in our situation, and he skillfully showed me how to listen to myself and see the signs of danger. I realize I need to re-read the final chapter to integrate the common wisdom of knowing myself, seeing danger, and understanding how fear works. It is possible to have faith in God, manage my fear, and more likely avoid violence without resorting to trite spiritual naivete or blind faith in God.

What I loved about this book is that Norman Marks, a global expert on risk, wrote about the complex field of risk management in an accessible (lay) voice. I loved that, as a contributor to the ISO standards, he then pointed out the imperfections in the standards he had contributed to.

Intellectual humility is not often seen. I appreciated the way he explained world-class management as if he were having a conversation with the major risk management theories, pointing out strengths and weaknesses and boldly stating what he disagrees with or doesn’t actually work. I loved hearing his voice: “If I ruled the world, [I’d do it this way…].” Of course, I was curious to keep reading.

I loved being challenged with the idea that there is something beyond resilience, that strength can be redefined as antifragility, and the application of this concept is infinite. Often shocked and kept off balance by the unorthodox words he created and paired, the uncertainty as he jumped from ancient Greece to the 21st century in one paragraph, I was forced as a reader to analyze old ideas through a novel lens.

I admit I feel a little smarter and less fragile, but I am still a novice as a flâneur. I agree with “I’d rather be dumb and antifragile than extremely smart and fragile, any time,” though I don’t pretend to understand everything Taleb means by this. Thankfully, he left a glossary of all his innovative words.

The summons to think in new ways and develop new awareness is a challenge I loved in this book. Gigerenzer distinguishes between an inner spiritual voice, intuition, and rational thinking: these are different ways of knowing and should be honored.

His numerous examples of the 3 critical skills for developing risk literacy are provocative but comprehensible. I’m encouraged to learn that my intuition in situations of uncertainty is often correct, and I should listen to it, even if I cannot immediately explain why. Why does this matter? The places where humanitarian relief work focuses are often highly unstable and dangerous. I must be able to explain how to do a risk assessment in less than fifteen minutes and make a quality risk decision.  Otherwise, it’s not helpful (simple solutions for complex problems).