The trauma of variables has another side-effect though: selective blindness. In the time-honoured spirit of the groupthink of the ancestral tree, ‘what we don’t see, can’t harm us’.

Variables. They are the raw materials of Murphy’s Law. You plan on a cheerful get-together, but an aging maiden aunt shows up. Will she like the arrangement, or will she complain throughout the festivities and bring indigestion as her dinner companion? You plan on a meeting, but some urgent work happens. Will you get it done on time or not? Variables happen.
As I understand it, the whole of the history of humanity, from the moment humanity’s forebears first fell out of the cozy ancestral tree, has been a process of controlling, though more likely, coping with variables.
Consider this proposal. Early nomadic man has to cope with predators, the weather and the fact that the person who makes sandals moves around. He theorises group living. By congregating in one small space, the group can chase of the predator, the group can huddle together for warmth and you always know where the ur-shoemaker is when one of your thongs breaks.
What he can’t imagine is the phenomenon of body odour or the emergence of the real estate agent as a specialized class. To solve the problem of sweaty armpits, he comes up with the idea of deodorant, inadvertently frying a hole in the ozone layer, contributing in no small way to global warming. There has been no solution advanced yet to the phenomenon of real estate agents’ commission and its effect on housing prices, but I shudder to think what it might be.
One thing leads to another.
The trauma of variables has another side-effect though: selective blindness. In the time-honoured spirit of the groupthink of the ancestral tree, ‘what we don’t see, can’t harm us’. And so, in the exercise of planning, be it economies, social systems, or a trip to the beach with the family, we reduce the variables in a display of optimism that makes Russian roulette look like a fair bet.