Awareness: The Tsunami Approach

Awareness is often described as an almost intuitive skill, something we're either born with or gradually develop. But in reality, it's about paying attention to subtle signs—sometimes obvious, sometimes barely noticeable—and making a decision before the rest of the world catches up. The key to survival, whether in a natural disaster or a global pandemic, often lies in what I like to call the "tsunami approach": the willingness to be wrong and look foolish, because the alternative could be much worse.

A True Story

In December 2004, a 10-year-old girl, Tilly Smith, made a decision that would define this approach. She saw the ocean pulling back and remembered a school lesson about tsunamis. Without overthinking it, she sounded the alarm. Did anyone around her know what was coming? No. Did they think she was being dramatic? Probably. But in that moment, being wrong and "silly" was the safer bet than staying on the beach. Tilly chose to act, and nearly 100 people are alive today because she did.

The tsunami approach is not about having superior knowledge or insights. It’s about interpreting the clues you do have and recognizing that sometimes the worst-case scenario is worth considering. After all, it’s easier to apologize for overreacting than to wish you’d done more.

Remember the Pandemic debut ?

Fast forward to 2020, and the world faced a different kind of wave. We all remember those early days when it wasn’t clear how serious things were. I was living in Berlin, trying to make sense of the scattered signals that were coming from old friends still in Beijing. I wasn't sure what was about to happen, but the few signs I noticed were enough to make me uneasy. When I brought my concerns to my colleagues, they laughed them off. I was washing my hands compulsively and sharing vague warnings, but I wasn’t entirely convinced myself that something monumental was coming.

Still, the hints were there: a friend of a friend mentioned Germany might close its borders. That seemed absurd. In Europe, the idea of closed borders felt like a relic of a bygone era. But I listened, even if it sounded extreme, and acted on it. My wife and I packed up within 48 hours, rushed my daughter to pack her things, and drove to France. We crossed the border just before it closed, hours before the first lockdown began. Looking back, it was a decision that I didn't make because I knew what was coming, but because I preferred to look ridiculous than to regret inaction.

That’s the essence of the tsunami approach: recognizing that it's okay to be wrong, but it's not okay to be unprepared.

Awareness and the Cost of Ignoring It

In both Tilly’s story and my own, awareness wasn't about knowing more than anyone else. It wasn’t about secret knowledge or expertise—it was about paying attention to signals that others chose to ignore or downplay. And that’s the core of awareness: it's not about certainty, it's about action. When you notice something unusual, do you dismiss it as an overreaction, or do you listen to that voice of caution?

Too often, we associate being wrong with failure. But awareness shifts that perspective. It reminds us that the stakes in these moments are rarely balanced. Inaction, in a moment of crisis, can be far more damaging than action—even if that action turns out to be unnecessary. It's easier to laugh off being cautious than to face the aftermath of ignoring a critical signal.

This isn't just relevant in natural disasters or pandemics. Think about everyday situations—driving a car, managing a business, or raising a family. Being aware of potential hazards, shifts in the market, or changes in behavior can save us from costly mistakes. It’s not about assuming the worst, but about recognizing that being overly cautious is sometimes the smartest move. The tsunami approach isn't about paranoia; it's about calculated risk, about being prepared for an outcome that others might think is too remote to worry about.

Why We Ignore Signals

It's human nature to avoid thinking about worst-case scenarios. There’s a kind of social pressure to dismiss concerns that seem too pessimistic. Phrases like "It won’t happen here" or "You’re overreacting" are all too familiar. In many ways, this is how we protect ourselves—by clinging to the belief that disruptions are rare and that life will continue as usual. But awareness isn’t about following the crowd; it’s about paying attention to those signals, however faint, and trusting your instincts even when others don’t.

Tilly Smith wasn’t afraid to sound the alarm when she saw the ocean recede, just as I wasn’t afraid to leave Berlin when whispers of border closures began. We didn’t act because we had privileged information, but because we paid attention to the signs anyone could have seen. The water pulling back, concerned messages from Beijing—these were clues that pointed to a potential crisis. Many around us ignored those clues, not out of ignorance, but because they didn’t want to believe something so disruptive could happen.

Why do we hesitate, then? Often, it’s because acknowledging danger means disrupting our routines and the sense of stability we’ve built. The comfort of normalcy is powerful, and we prefer to believe that tomorrow will look like today. Imagining something different—especially something threatening—forces us to confront uncertainty, which most people would rather avoid.

There’s also the fear of being judged. No one wants to be labeled as the person who overreacts. In social situations, conformity is easier. If everyone else is dismissing the danger, standing out feels uncomfortable. This fear of social isolation or ridicule can cause us to stay silent, even when our instincts are nudging us to act. Yet, as we’ve seen in moments of crisis, waiting for someone else to act can come with heavy consequences.

Ultimately, Tilly’s story reminds us that being willing to risk looking "silly" is sometimes the most responsible thing we can do. It’s better to act on the signs, even if they seem small, than to regret doing nothing when it’s too late. Awareness means breaking through the inertia of inaction and understanding that the biggest risk often lies in waiting, not acting.

Riding the Wave of Awareness

In times of crisis, we all like to think we'd respond with calm and confidence. But the truth is, most people hesitate, unsure if they're overreacting. The essence of the tsunami approach is realizing that it’s okay to be wrong if it means avoiding being blindsided. The embarrassment of seeming overly cautious is nothing compared to the risk of ignoring a real threat.

Life will always present us with moments where we have to decide: act on what we see or wait and hope for the best. The tsunami approach is a reminder that taking early action, even if it feels unnecessary, is often the wiser choice. In the end, it’s much better to look a little silly than to regret staying silent or standing still.