La force invisible qui gouverne nos vies et dont personne ne parle.

This video explores the extraordinary nature of improbable events and coincidences, aiming to demonstrate that what often appears miraculous is, in fact, a predictable outcome of statistical laws. It begins with captivating anecdotes, such as Morgan Robertson's 1898 novel "Futility of the Wreck of the Titan," which eerily prefigured the Titanic disaster 14 years later. The story of Violet Jessop, an ocean liner stewardess who survived the collisions of the RMS Olympic in 1911, the sinking of the Titanic in 1912, and the explosion of the HMHS Britannic in 1916, further highlights seemingly miraculous survival. The video then delves into the statistical underpinnings of such events, particularly the Law of Large Numbers. To illustrate this, a simple coin-tossing experiment is proposed: flip a coin 10 times and record the results. Simultaneously, viewers are asked to choose a number between 1 and 1000. The presenter predicts that hundreds of viewers will have chosen the number 742, and many more will share his January 28th birthday. While this might seem coincidental, the explanation lies in the sheer number of participants. With 100,000 viewers, the probability of shared choices or birthdates becomes high. The same principle applies to coin flips; out of 100,000 people flipping a coin 10 times, approximately 200 will get 10 heads or tails in a row, 2,000 will get 9, and 9,000 will get 8. Individually, these odds are minuscule, but across a large population, such "streaks" are almost guaranteed. The video defines a "miracle" as an event with a one-in-a-million chance of occurring daily. Within a group of 100,000 people, three are statistically likely to witness such a miracle each week. This seemingly small group is, in fact, large enough to ensure that extraordinary events are not only possible but probable. The Law of Littlewood further supports this, suggesting that an average person experiences over 1.5 million events per month. If a miracle occurs with a frequency of 1 in a million, then an individual can expect to observe more than one miracle per month. Thus, the real surprise would be if improbable events *didn't* happen to us. However, many statistical miracles go unnoticed because they are subtle or diluted by the abundance of ordinary events. For example, receiving texts with the same number of letters for seven consecutive days might go unnoticed, whereas being pooped on by pigeons three days in a row in three different cities would be memorable. The key insight is that large populations and extended durations are "miracle machines." For instance, while the annual probability of being struck by lightning is 1 in a million for an individual, among 100,000 people, 7 to 8 will be struck in their lifetime. The probability that *no one* in this group would be struck is a mere 0.14%. When considering humanity's 8 billion people, the consequences of the Law of Large Numbers become staggering. An event with a one-in-a-million chance for an individual impacts about 20 people worldwide daily. The video cites extreme examples like Ann Hodges, the only person in the 20th century directly hit by a meteorite, and Vesna Vulović, a flight attendant who survived a 10,000-meter fall without a parachute after her plane exploded. These events, while astronomically improbable for an individual, become almost inevitable given the vast number of "attempts" by existence. The case of Roy Sullivan, struck by lightning seven times in 35 years, is particularly fascinating. While surviving a lightning strike has a 90% probability, surviving seven times in a row has a 50% chance. The truly improbable part is being struck seven times. If the annual chance of being struck is 1 in a million, the probability of the same person being struck seven times in 35 years is 1 in 150 quintillion. This seems like a "bug in the matrix" until considering Roy was a park ranger in a storm-prone area, often working outdoors under trees when others sought shelter. His profession significantly increased his exposure, turning an almost impossible individual probability into a more understandable outcome. This leads to a crucial point: our tendency to perceive improbability where it doesn't truly exist, often by assigning importance to surprising patterns. For example, out of 10 million daily metro tickets with six-digit numbers, hundreds will display "special" combinations (identical digits, sequences, symmetric patterns). We deem these special when we hold them, but they are no more likely than any other combination. Our brains are prone to "a posteriori selection," defining what's impressive *after* the fact, rather than beforehand. This cognitive bias leads us to overestimate the uniqueness of coincidences and underestimate the sheer number of possible combinations. The "birthday paradox" exemplifies this: only 23 people are needed in a room for there to be over a 50% chance that two share a birthday, a figure far lower than our intuition suggests (around 100). Our brains incorrectly compare one person's birthday to the remaining 364 days, rather than comparing every birthday to every other. The video then transitions to financial decisions, highlighting how poorly we interpret numbers related to money. Finari, a YouTube channel and app, is introduced as a tool to gain financial literacy and avoid unrealistic promises. Next, the discussion pivots to our innate fears, demonstrating how statistics can temper them. The fear of flying, for instance, is far greater than the fear of driving to the airport, even though driving is statistically more dangerous. To illustrate, imagine a stadium of 1 million people. If an "ampoule" (light bulb) above a seat lights up when someone dies from a specific cause within a year: * **Shark attack:** The stadium remains dark. Annual probability is 1 in 40 million. Even cows are more dangerous, killing four people annually in the UK. * **Plane crash:** The stadium remains dark. Probability is 1 in tens of millions per flight. * **Lightning strike:** One light flickers. Probability is 1 in a million. * **Car accident:** About 100 lights illuminate. * **Cardiovascular diseases:** Nearly 2,500 lights illuminate, as the annual probability is 1 in 400. Over a lifetime, heart disease would light up a third of the stadium. Our "reptilian brain" prioritizes immediate, visible threats (sharks, plane crashes, lightning) over slow, cumulative, and invisible risks. This explains why we panic at market crashes, which occur every 3-4 years on average, yet often miss the subsequent rebound, costing investors significant returns. Missing the 10 best stock market days over 20 years can halve one's performance. Our fear response, evolved for the savanna to detect immediate dangers like fire or predators, is ill-suited for modern risks. Today, most threats progress discreetly. Beds are the most dangerous place, as most people die in them. Stairs and sofas are statistically more menacing than oceans. The annual risk of death by domestic accident is 1 in 25,000. Sedentary lifestyles, for example, indirectly increase the risk of cardiovascular disease. These diffuse, invisible risks don't trigger our internal alarms. Furthermore, we tolerate chosen risks better than imposed ones. Driving feels safer than flying, even with a highly competent pilot. The video highlights common errors in interpreting probability. A 0.1% annual risk (1 in 1000) seems negligible, but over 80 years, 8% of people will experience it. A 1% annual risk means 55% will experience it in their lifetime. Small, repeated risks accumulate into significant probabilities over time. We also confuse relative and absolute risk. If a drink increases the risk of a rare disease by 50%, it sounds alarming. But if the disease affects 2 in 100,000 people, a 50% increase merely raises it to 3 in 100,000. The relative risk is high, but the absolute risk remains tiny. Media often exploits this by emphasizing "doubled risk" over "absolute increase of one case per 100,000." To counter this, the "micromort" unit was invented: a 1-in-a-million probability of death from an action. Driving 400 km or smoking one cigarette (over a lifetime) is 1 micromort. Climbing K2 is 250,000 micromorts. Living a sedentary life for a lifetime carries far more micromorts than even extreme sports like climbing Everest for a few days. The micromort helps frame risk as a budget, allowing for more informed choices. Finally, the video returns to our brain's tendency to find patterns and tell stories. In sports, "hot streaks" often appear miraculous. Ty Lawson hitting 10 out of 11 three-pointers in an NBA game seems astounding, but with a 40% success rate, 9 consecutive successes have a 1 in 4000 chance. Given the vast number of attempts over a player's career and across many players, such "pearls" are inevitable. Klay Thompson scoring 52 points with 14 three-pointers in 27 minutes is impressive, but for a player of his caliber, this performance has a 3% chance of occurring, meaning it's expected once every 40 games. Similarly, "cold streaks" are equally inevitable. Our brain seeks deep reasons for extraordinary performances, attributing them to "grace" rather than the predictable outcomes of statistical curves. This bias also influences how we view success in life. While effort, talent, and discipline are crucial, recognizing the role of chance helps us avoid blindly idolizing winners or despising losers. The success of "Fifty Shades of Grey," despite its critical reception, is attributed to a fortunate alignment of circumstances (rise of e-books, Twilight's popularity, new adult readership). Had it been released today, it might have been forgotten. Understanding that the emergence of the extraordinary is logical in a world of countless trials doesn't diminish wonder. Instead, it invites appreciation for the "joyful probabilistic mess" of existence. It helps reduce panic, lessen the hypnotic power of alarming headlines, and stop us from seeking hidden causes everywhere. The improbable is not an exception or a system bug; it is the rule. The inherent imprecision of the world makes it exciting, full of surprises. Knowing it might