Death to Trust

I must be on some kind of mountaineering “call list,” because whenever there’s a high-profile death in the hills—of which there have been far too many lately—or a big mountain story breaks, or a thorny ethical question arises, I tend to get an email sooner or later.

These come from the usual suspects: the BBC, The Times, The Guardian, and other UK outlets, but also from farther afield, like the LA Times or Bombay Times. At the other end is always a journalist hoping for a quick call to ask what I think about X for their piece.

If the story is really big and Leo Houlding or Kenton Cool are tied up, I might even get asked to go on the radio—or, worse, to trek to some distant TV studio, spend a whole day traveling there and back, just to sit on a couch for three minutes repeating the same tired platitudes. (I often say you can watch TV with the sound off and still know exactly what everyone’s saying—they always say the same things.)

How do I reply to these requests? Once upon a time, I’d bend over backwards to be helpful. Such invitations were great for the ego—to feel your voice mattered. I’d jump on the radio at the drop of a hat or travel to London or Manchester to perch on a sofa and trot out lines like “because it’s there” when asked why we climb.

These days, though, I have a stock reply

Hi,

This always does the trick. Since these stories have the lifespan of a croissant (life rule #345: never buy a croissant at 12 noon), the journalist simply moves down the list.

But yesterday, I let something slip…

…to a BBC journalist who wanted to talk about the Grossglockner case.

She was keen to explore these questions:

• Have you had many conversations with friends about this, and is it a topic being widely discussed in mountaineering circles?
• Have you ever had to make difficult decisions while mountaineering?
• Is there a written or unwritten code of conduct and ethics?
• Are there certain essential equipment and health-and-safety items every expedition needs?

I started drafting a short refusal, but found myself breaking my own rule. Rereading her email, I realised what I was writing ran counter to what most others would likely tell her—an anti-platitude, if you like:

Hi,
I have a policy of not talking to journalists about climbing ethics or dead climbers, as it never ends well. But in this case, if we keep pulling at this supposed thread of criminal culpability—from X being more experienced than Y, and something bad happening to Y when Y appears to have no real agency in the outcome—where does it end?
This logic works when you’re looking after children, not so well with adults—unless money has changed hands (you’re being guided, and the guide owes a duty of care, at least in theory).
To be blunt: the more people who die in the mountains, the safer the mountains become. It’s why we used to hang people—not to punish them, but to define consequences for everyone else. At 54, I know an equal number of climbers who have died climbing, and I expect any one of them could have sued someone or other for their death. But the foundation of climbing and mountaineering is trust—you have to trust yourself and others—and criminalizing these decisions would also be the death of trust.
Best,
Andy