Mountaineering Ethics: Quo Vadis?
BY RICHARD B. BIRRER, CHRISTOPHER D. BIRRER, RICHARD B. BIRRER, DANIEL E. BIRRER
Like morality, mountaineering ethics looks to be a matter of discovery rather than decision, and to some degree always a matter of conscience.
-Rai Gaita, "Sacred Places"
In May of 2006, David Sharp, a young British climber, slowly succumbed to the elements 300 meters below the summit of Everest, despite being observed by more than three dozen climbers en route. How could such a “horrifying” event transpire?
People go to the mountains and climb them in every way imaginable. They may be driven by the same impulse, but each climber values the experience differently. Immense amounts of money and significant amounts of time are spent annually knocking off world-class mountains in a frenzied effort to become a member of the climber’s elite club. Commercial climbing enterprises have become big business. Some of these expeditions cost tens of thousands of dollars, with the “seven summits” package approaching $150 million. The “summit or bust” mindset creates overcrowding and inherent risks. The 1996 Hall and Fischer tragedy chronicled by Jon Krakauer’s Into Thin Air clearly delineates them. Have such events reduced ethical considerations of a beloved sport to an all-time low?
Ethics comprise a set of moral principles or values that govern the conduct of an individual. So, lying about one’s accomplishments in mountaineering is the same as lying about one’s career or family achievements. In the case of mountaineering, its very history has created the framework for ethical behavior. Classic routes are revered and repeated. Yet others believe that the hills are about freedom; history and the trappings of occupation are irrelevant. So should each mountain be viewed as one’s own virgin challenge, to which the individual climber brings, or even creates, his or her own ethics? Whose right is it when we approach a mountain? At present, there exists little information concerning mountaineering ethics. Few climbing organizations have defined policies or guidelines on sport, seasonal, rock, or mountain climbing. If they do, they are very general and/or outdated. For many of us, ethics derive from the things we are most proud of in ourselves—“doing the right thing.”
Historically, mountaineering embodied scientific enquiry and exploration. During the past 100 years, however, sport and competition have loomed large: the latter because a military-style logistical pyramid offers a greater chance of success. Such siege tactics (while maximizing the chance for success) produce armies of Sherpas, bottles of oxygen, ladders to negotiate icefalls and other precarious landscapes, numerous fixed camps, and increasing piles of associated refuse. Many climbers have felt that in some way this approach runs counter to the philosophy and spirit of climbing. Large-scale expeditions are no longer considered the sharp edge of high-altitude climbing: they have become a mere sideshow. Finally, there has been an explosion of non-professional climbers taking to the great outdoors. Cutting-edge technology, ease of travel, access to heretofore remote places, and personal wealth bring thousands of inexperienced individuals (as well as their friends, families, and pets) to the hills, creating a paradigm shift in consciousness.
While most climbers concur on the need to care for the environment and leave no trace, one needs only to visit the base camps of Aconcagua or Everest to witness how this philosophy often becomes an academic exercise when assaulting a formidable summit. In particular, the venerable “seven summits” have become the Holy Grail for many, in which even safety may be sacrificed in the bid for personal glory.
The Summit
What ethical considerations might apply to a successful summit bid? Is a particular vertical distance required? The summit is the highest point on a peak or subpeak. (The term “peak” is here being used generally to mean any mountain or hill.) Mountain summits have long been known by their elevation above mean sea level. Are summiting and peak bagging the same? Many mountains have several summits (e.g., north and south summits of Everest; Columbia Crest versus the rim on Mt. Rainier; Batian, Nelion, and Lenana on Mt. Kenya; Gillman’s Point versus Uhuru Peak on Kilimanjaro; etc.).Many clubs consider a successful climb to consist of a minimum number of vertical meters or feet. For instance, in Colorado, 3,000 vertical feet of gain under one’s own power is, by longstanding informal agreement, considered to be a “legal” ascent of a “fourteener,” as would be hiking the connecting ridge to the next fourteener and ascending only a few hundred feet. For a summit to constitute a peak, it must rise at least 300 vertical feet above the saddle connecting it to its neighbor. Doing less than that is considered “visiting” a summit.
A growing community of climbers, mountain enthusiasts, and researchers recognize that summits also can be measured by their elevation relative to the surrounding terrain. Prominence (also known as autonomous height, freestanding height, relative height, gap height, shoulder drop, or prime factor in Europe) is a concept used in the categorization of hills and mountains. It refers to the elevation of a summit relative to the highest point to which one must descend before reascending to a higher summit, or the elevation difference between its summit and the lowest contour that encircles that summit (but no higher summit). It is also represents the smallest descent that one would have to make from a summit to reascend to a higher peak. Because it is an objective measurement with a strong correlation to the subjective significance of a summit, all summits have a specific, non-arbitrary prominence. Peaks with low prominences are merely subsidiary tops of some higher summit. Peaks with high prominences tend to be the highest points around and are likely to have extraordinary views. The concept has generated considerable theory and debate. In the United States, 2,000 feet of prominence has become an informal threshold that signifies that a peak of that height or greater has major stature.
“Peak bagging” (hill bagging, mountain bagging, or among enthusiasts, just bagging) has become a rage in recent years. Peak bagging is a popular activity for hill walkers and mountaineers alike, whereby they attempt to attain the summit of each peak in a region above some height, or having a particular feature. Is peak bagging synonymous with highpointing? In highpointing, the goal is to reach the highest point in some geographic area (e.g., state or county), even if that point is not in any sense a peak. Suppose a rectangular county has a 1,000 foot-tall hill at its center, but its northwest corner reaches an elevation of 1,001 feet on the gentle lower slopes of a 10,000-foot mountain in the next county. The hill at the center is the highest peak in the county, but the northwest corner is the highpoint.
The Risk
Few who have spent time in the mountains would disagree that the sport has inherent risks. Some have observed that mountaineering history consists of men and women who maintain a certain disregard for human life (or else they would not be doing what they are doing). As in the sport of scuba diving, there are “no old, bold climbers.” But how many of us have actually performed a risk-benefit analysis of a prospective climb? How many sincerely ponder the fact that they may suffer a serious injury or even pay the ultimate price in the pursuit of such endeavors? Many nonclimbers believe that climbers on a major expedition are required to meet the highest standards (e.g., a thorough medical evaluation, an extensive climbing resume, etc.). Indeed, most participants assume that everyone understands the risks that come with the climb. This is not the case. Historically, most of the tragedies have involved elite climbers, not rank amateurs, presumably because the latter tend to be more cautious simply as a result of their limited experience. And within the veteran fraternity, rescue and assistance is welldocumented. However, with the recent surge in climbing activity throughout the world, the number of serious injuries and deaths owing to mountaineering has involved a growing number of non-professional climbers. Arrogance, lack of experience, media hype, and a changing ethic all lead to misfortune at high altitude. Further, such risks are not limited only to the self.
In May 1992, on the South Col of Everest, an Indian climber became stranded on his return from the summit and collapsed meters away from the tents in which a Dutch expedition was camped. Despite cries for help heard by people in a nearby tent who saw him, they took no action while he slowly froze to death. No effort was made to determine if he was beyond help, to offer him consolation, let alone to try to rescue him. Why? Your gut reaction is likely: How could they do that and call themselves human? Is there no hope, no fundamental compulsion to act? Then you place yourself five miles up, huddled in a tent on a mountainside in the death zone. Your body is slowly consuming itself from the effects of altitude and the struggle to get to this lone outpost. You have sacrificed so much just to get here. Experience tells you that there is little, if anything, you can do to help the struggling climber. You will likely end your expedition’s summit bid if you try, and you may well endanger the lives of your teammates in the process. Where does ratiocination leave off and rationalization begin? You apply a familiar balm to your aching conscience: He chose to be here and knew and accepted the risks. Intentionally endangering oneself by indulging in extreme mountaineering for personal glorification, especially when the activity may endanger others, is unethical.
The power of context seems to play an important role in such an ethical quandary. It is likely that a group ethos may be responsible for inaction during a mountaineering accident. While most of us would like to believe that we would do the right thing if we found ourselves in a similar situation, we also wish never to be tested. Dramatic and memorable survival stories like those of Joe Simpson or Beck Weathers, both of whom returned from the “land of the dead,” are exceptional because they are out of the ordinary: they contradict the statistics. And the statistics of survival at dangerous altitude after extensive exposure are rather grim.
Is the life of a sentient being valued less than a mountain peak? Evidence exists to suggest that people can and do evaluate lives differently. Meanwhile, less glaring than life and death is the treatment of native peoples who make many expeditions possible. Often ill-equipped, these individuals must work long hours under extremely risky circumstances to assure the health and welfare of client climbers and the security of a safe summit bid. Many have perished in the process; many more have suffered complications from the activity, including hypothermia, frostbite, and traumatic injury. Few have health insurance or the resources to deal with the consequences.
The Method
Imagine Paccard and Balmat with hobnail boots and wooden staffs climbing Mt. Blanc in 1786 for the first time, or Croz’s first ascent of the Matterhorn in 1865. The first Everest expedition in 1921 required a 725-kilometer trek from Darjeeling. Finch and Bruce were halted on the same mountain a year later at 8,235 meters by the weight of their bulky equipment. Hillary and Norgay carried more than 30 pounds of personal equipment to the summit of Everest in 1953.Where do ethics and technology merge, and where do they part company? Do the same ethics apply to climbing for exploratory and scientific purposes as they do to competitive and adventurous ones? Planting the flag by any means necessary fills the annals of mountaineering.
A review of the past 100 years of climbing shows that some of the most significant developments in technique (e.g., belaying) and equipment (e.g., camming) were viewed as unethical when they first appeared. What methods are acceptable? How should the distance be covered? Is the use of a mechanical device to travel to the top in whole or in part (e.g., Sno-Cat, train, bicycle, motorcycle, skidoo, lift, helicopter) acceptable? What about the use of an animal (e.g., horse, mule, llama)? On May 14, 2005, a Frenchmade helicopter landed on the summit of Everest, breaking the world record for the highest-altitude landing and take-off ever—an ultimate milestone in the history of aviation. Is it unrealistic to picture summit flights to a mountaintop in the not so-distant future? One could imagine an environmentally conscious bagger arguing that this would be the pinnacle of “leave no trace.” However, most climbers believe that they should transport their equipment, rather than permit their equipment to carry them. All would agree that using such technologies may qualify as an ascent, but certainly not a climb.
For some peak baggers, simply being present at the highest point is sufficient to check the summit off the list. This allows for driving to car accessible summits and stepping out of the vehicle and declaring the summit “climbed.” While this extreme case is scoffed at by most mountaineers, there are certain circles for which it is the norm, and in fact it would be almost ridiculous to visit certain nonprominent peaks and highpoints any other way. Drive-ups are allowed by the U.S. State Highpointers Club and by the even more popular County Highpointers Club, whose members are collectively attempting to reach the highest point in all 3,142 U.S. counties. Various organizations have adopted different rules for what to do when a peak is on private land or otherwise inaccessible (whether off-road vehicles may be used, etc.). Some peak baggers augment the challenge by completing a list of summits within a time frame, or perform these feats only in winter. Often there are detailed rules for these advanced games, too, such as precise definitions of “winter.” Some early members of the Scottish Mountaineering Club carried this approach to its logical extreme by apparently considering a “Munro” only fully bagged when ascended in “full conditions”—snow cover and a “white-out.”
Mountaineering is a more complex sport than pure rock climbing. It has a single aim: to reach the top, with aid climbing, resting, etc., all accepted. A false claim of ascent is the most outrageous violation of ethics. Style is becoming increasingly important. The name of the game is lightweight, fast-moving, low-impact expeditions. Placing excessive fixed gear is considered poor practice. Codes of practice (e.g., IGO 8000), which aim to ensure good practice and establish standards, exist for commercial companies who organize major expeditions. Reinhold Messner set the standard for climbing a mountain “by fair means.” What does this mean? Devotees believe that the only honest way to climb in the purest style involves a minimum of equipment for a quick alpine ascent with no oxygen. There has been many a vehement argument in base camps of the venerable 8,000-meter giants about what is considered light versus what is supplemental. Is the use of oxygen unfair? Climbers who decry its use are often seen wolfing down heaps of supplements with their meals. Do those very vitamins and other supplements lessen or negate the validity of a successful ascent since they might provide an “unfair” edge? Performance-enhancing agents (e.g., anabolic steroids, blood doping, etc) are well-known in the climbing community, but should these substances be treated as they are in the Olympics and other sports? Home-based altitude chambers, nitrogen tents, and personal hypoxicators are now available for purchase or rent so that cost-effective training at home or work can be effectively expedited, but do these tools fall within fair means?
Certain individuals believe that summiting safely, without exterior help, and returning is the essence of mountaineering—style is irrelevant. Some purists espouse quick alpine ascents without a guiding service; their personal standards are rigidly set and stoical in nature. Climbing solo is the ultimate in ethics. Such an approach sets a high standard and removes the majority of mediocre climbers and their associated problems. Currently, while many mountains have a register, an “honors system” is used to record the successful completion of a summit. However, it is wellknown in climbing circles that this form of “record keeping” is subject to abuse.
The Mantra
Should there be a set of ethical standards developed for mountaineering? While a uniform set of ethical guidelines would be highly desirable, it is improbable that one can be achieved by consensus in the near future. An ethical discussion often raises more questions than answers. Codification of ethical behavior is not the answer. Rather, most agree that the solution to mountain problems must begin at an individual level and remain flexible. Yet we should not ignore those who question new climbing developments or those who concern themselves with ethical and stylistic matters; how we climb does matter. As a reasonable starting point we, therefore, urge individuals to consider the cumulative effects of their mountain activities and to tailor their code of ethics in such a way that traditional mountaineering values are preserved for future generations. This means respecting the varying traditions of climbing in different geographical areas. It also means avoiding the use of off-road vehicles, mechanized climbing aids, and such traditional items as fires, horses, pitons, and aircraft. We believe that self-restraint and discretion must be employed by each individual in order to preserve the dignity of both our mountains and our sport.
Climbers will continue to debate what constitutes “fair means,” what is an acceptable margin
of safety, which technology is appropriate, and how much alteration of the climbing environment is acceptable. This is right and good. The bottom line is that climbing areas are a finite resource, and most of these places belong to someone else. If we are not faithful stewards of them, we and our successors will suffer the consequences. To enjoy this remarkable privilege, we must meet the freedom of the hills with an equal mete of responsibility and care. We need to maintain a measure of humility about today’s issues, because at least some of the questions that we are dearly concerned about today may appear quaint or outdated tomorrow. We should not permit ethical debates among climbers to obscure other looming issues or spoil our relationships with native peoples, land managers, and the community at large. Many veteran climbers believe that the mountains give back much more than we climbers take. It is a lopsided love affair. Mountaineering, like other human activities, has its noble and selfless moments that should not be tarnished by thoughtless, unethical dramas. In the same month that David Sharp was left for dead, Lincoln Hall became separated from his party and was rescued by a group of climbers who abandoned their summit attempt to lend a hand, fulfilling a most honorable code of ethics.