Facing the Future: What It Means to Be a Mountaineer in the 21st Century

*(note that the scroll function for the page is at the lower left of the screen)*

December 9, 2007 -

* This is the lecture that Mr Morrissey gave at the 2007 UN International Mountain Day Seminar in Seoul

In the early months of 1923, the then famous and now legendary mountaineer George Leigh Mallory embarked upon a tour of the United States, giving lectures about the previous reconnaissance of Chomolungma, more commonly referred to in our part of the world as Mount Everest. Mallory also discussed in these lectures the expedition planned for the spring of 1924 to attempt the first summit of Chomolungma. During that 1924 expedition, on June 8, Mallory along with his climbing companion Andrew Irvine were seen by expedition geologist Noel Odell from a great distance ascending over the north-east ridge into the clouds of Chomolungma. It was the last time they ever seen alive. Mallory’s body was found in May 1999, at 8155m or 26,760ft, on the north face. There’s a photo on the back wall there of his body. Irvine’s body has yet to be found. Though many more attempted and several more disappeared, Chomolungma would not be summited until nearly thirty years later on May 29, 1953 by Tenzing Norgay Sherpa and Sir Edmund Hillary. It would be almost a quarter century after this that Koreans would first step foot on the mountain, when on September 15, 1977, Ko Sang-don raised the taegukki from atop the summit.

But in 1923, Mallory was all the rage in the alpine world. It was while on this tour in the US, during a press conference, that a reporter asked Mallory “Why climb Mount Everest?” to which Mallory is so famously quoted as replying “Because it’s there.” Now, there are two unfortunates regarding this quote. First, it is likely that Mallory never said it. Mallory claimed in letters that he never said such a thing, or at least he didn’t recall ever saying it, and if he did it was most likely as response to brush off an exasperating reporter. It is well-known that Mallory didn’t enjoy his time in the US, and eventually tired of facing the media. The second unfortunate outcome of this quote, perhaps more unfortunate than the historical inaccuracy of it, is the mentality that it bred in so many mountaineers. “Because it’s there” became the motto of a whole generation of mountaineers, like a mystical and philosophical epigram, especially for the generations after 1953 when a new interest in the Mallory story was sparked. The idea of “conquering mountains” because “they’re there and we can” was forming, limited only by access and funding. A new kind of explorer was born, with a new sport culture no longer reserved for European gentlemen, made of revved up ‘conquerors’, all too often ignorant of the sacredness of the places they wished to command.

Mountaineering continues to draw people. As you all may know, any given Sunday here in Samgaksan, on some trails there are literally lines of people. Before I learned how to avoid these crowded situations in Samgaksan – by avoiding certain trails – I’ve actually waited in line to move along the trail. It isn’t too far removed from walking through Dongdaemun Market. Yearly, more and more people are drawn to the schools of mountaineering – hiking, climbing, trekking, bouldering, scrambling. People claim they do it for different reasons, and although there are many reasons people give for why they go mountaineering, ultimately, it is my firm belief that the real primary, perhaps sometimes subconscious reason why most people go mountaineering is because of biophilia.

Biophilia literally means ‘love of living systems.’ The German psychologist Erich Fromm first used the term, but in an ecological sense, it was first introduced by American biologist and naturalist Edward O. Wilson. In a most basic definition, biophilia is a hypothesis that believes that humans have a natural attachment to all life. Doctor Wilson believes that we have a deep rooted affiliation with nature and that this affiliation is actually in our biology. In other words, it is innate in us to want to be among natural things, and this may be a biological rhythm that helps to sustain life. In another regard, biophilia is the trigger that makes us homesick, in the naturalist sense. In our cities, when we do not have plentiful trees, or lakes, grasses, or mountains we innately, maybe subconsciously, recognize the absence and long to be in such places. When we encroach upon a mountain, removing vast swaths of the ecosystem, we not only tear away trees and animals and habitat, we imperil our own connection to Nature and remove vast swaths of our own sanity, of our own wellbeing, and of our own peace. We then further increase our biophilia, but the only thing that can sate that desire for nature we’ve just destroyed. And as these natural places continue to shrink due to human encroachment and business deals, our biophilia, our longing to be among natural things, grows stronger. This I believe is easily witnessed every weekend, here in Korea, as thousands of people, living in the cramped, gray quarters of Seoul, go to Samgaksan,. They come and they hike, or they climb, and may say they come for exercise, but they are really satisfying a biological instinct that we all have. Some of us may have forgotten it completely, but it is, at least hypothetically, there - and I believe it.

But there is a logistics problem. The amount of nature being removed is disproportionate to the number of people experiencing biophilia. And this is causing further damage to nature. Samgaksan, as Bukhansan National Park, is among the most visited national parks in the world. There are millions of visitors to the park every year; millions people roaming over a park that is less than 80 square kilometres. Now, my math has never been too keen, but those numbers just don’t compute. We continue to encroach, and as we continue to encroach, more of the ecosystem is damaged and shrinks, and as it continues to shrink, our biophilia demands more and more to be satisfied.

Compounded with the overcrowding of mountains is the ever present mentality of “Because it’s there.” To conquer the mountain, to not be defeated by Nature, is still a very persistent attitude among our fellow mountaineers. In some mountains around the world, non-mountaineers are gladly being dragged up snowy flanks by professional guides, all for a hefty cost. The final cost though is the exploitation of the mountain. Here in Korea, I’ve witnessed on many occasions this aggressive proclivity toward mountaineering. Once in particular, I hiked up onto the Bibong Ridge from the Bibong Maepyoso Route and, looking toward the west semi-climbing route of Bibong saw a man fall diagonally backwards from the peak, and tumble all the way down into the trees. He had been carrying a bag too large for a simple daytrip, and more so he was being directed from below by a line of people – literally a line of people – waiting to get up the peak, all pointing and harping at him how to get up the rock, directing him on how to conquer it. The rescue helicopter was there in minutes, but I was told that the man had broken his neck and was dead.

“Because it’s there.” Because we can, is an unfortunate attitude. It has not only driven some of us mountaineers to our premature deaths, it has also been a contributing factor to the breaking down of montane environments, the very environments in which we mountaineers thrive. To what degree do we all truly love the mountains? How much are we willing to give back? “Because it’s there” was the general mentality of 20th century mountaineers. But we are the mountaineers of the new millennium, and times have changed. We can no longer sustainedly believe in the dogma of “Because it’s there,” we must adopt a new motto, and I think some true words of George Leigh Mallory would suffice.

Mallory said: “The only defence for mountaineering puts it on a higher plane than mere physical sensation. It is asserted that the climber experiences higher emotions; he gets some good for his soul.” Good for the soul.

People sometimes ask me if I’m a churchgoing man, and I say “Yes, I go to church every Sunday.” It’s a different kind of church, though. Each time I enter the mountain, my church, I do get good for my ‘soul’, my spirit, my inner calm. It doesn’t really matter what we call it, it’s our attitude that counts. With the correct attitude, the mountains can be our venues of inner peace, and this too I’ve witnessed in my many, many mountain travels. Especially here in Korea, I’ve noticed it. I can see a change in people when they go to the mountains.

In Seoul we rush around, bouncing off each other as we move as fast as we possibly can. We bolt to and fro to places that ultimately seem to offer nothing new. We keep our eyes are aligned forward like draft horses fitted with blinders; we never make eye contact with passers-by, never compliment each other with a greeting of any kind. In my eyes, the solemn of Seoul is exemplified by its vast neon glow attempting to brighten our lives with a finite, material happiness. But, on the trails, a different persona seems to radiate, a whole different kind of personality dwells there. Ineffable happiness and kindness drifts about as the eyes of slower moving bodies scan the mountain surroundings. Greetings rarely go unsaid to strangers. The mountain shades are painted over trails that wave through uncertain terrain. Around each bend in a trail something new may be seen, something that wasn’t there before – a blooming flower, a lizard scurrying across the path, a beetle ascending a pine. The trail is new every time as it sways with the crests and troughs of Nature. Calmly, we can observe the mountain right down to its flesh and bone. This is the goodness for the soul that Mallory was talking about.

Unfortunately, though, not everyone, not even those who would seem to fit the part, understands the mountain and the goodness of it.

I see it this way: the quality of a mountaineer, especially the 21st century mountaineer, can never be surmised by how well he moves along ridges, or maneuvers up a face, nor how efficiently he scrambles over rocks. The quality of a mountaineer must be calculated by how he views the mountain and how he views himself in it. The mountaineer who sees the mountain as an object of his conquering desires, “Because it’s there,” I believe, is a mountaineer of little merit. No matter the greatness of his skill in reaching the summit, if he sees himself as master of the mountain, he is lacking in quality. Also, the mountaineer who cares little and does nothing for the protection of the mountain yet continues to make use of the mountain’s resources is a dishonourable man, unworthy of the greatness of the mountains. Considering these attitudes, even if one goes to mountains more often than anywhere else, this kind of mountaineer has no true comprehension of mountain, and gets nothing good for his soul.

Yet there are those who view the mountain differently than all that, those who see themselves as grateful recipients of the nourishment of the highlands. This mountaineer views the highland not as some playground there to simply please his delights of adventure, but rather as a hallowed ground offering the opportunity to touch the core of his own being. He doesn’t see the mountain as simply a mass of stone, a lifeless thing; he views the mountain as an entity, breathing life into him. Owing to this, the quality mountaineer protects the mountain and shudders at the thought of its demise. He goes to the mountain only if it allows him and he moves along ridges, or maneuvers up faces, and scrambles over rocks as well and as efficiently as he can. And he does none of it for self-gain, but for self-awareness; he does it not to boast of skill, but to better him self. He goes to the mountain with humility and whatever he gains in merit as a mountaineer he equally gains as a human being. This is the mountaineer of the 21st century.

So here we are, mountaineers of the 21st century – or at least striving to be - celebrating International Mountain Day. Now what does this mean for us? The UN had the foresight to recognize the peril that global warming, climate change, deforestation, poorly planned agriculture, unsustainable tourism, and so on are having on mountain ecosystems. So, they gave us a day to remember the necessity of protecting the vital and sensitive ecology of mountains. But, what is it exactly that we must remember? There is only one thing: limit impact. Limit the amount of damage we all do either directly and indirectly to mountain ecosystems.

Every time we go to the mountains we impact upon them with where we trek, how we trek, where we climb, and how we climb. There’s no escaping it: every one of us here, every time we step onto a mountain we inflict a direct impact upon it. It is imperative for us all to be wise in how we choose to move through mountains. Study and practice of the minimal impact code is so important. By applying the basics of the minimal impact code we can make a huge difference: stay on established trails to avoid the spread of erosion; keep away from sensitive ecological areas like marshes and meadows; do not disturb any wild fauna or flora; be quiet – noise disturbs the reproduction patterns of some animals; whatever goes into the mountain with you, must come out with you; tread lightly. And so on. For the mountaineer of the 21st century, the minimal impact code must be believed and put into action religiously. There’s no room for compromise. And oft times we must consider something that we as mountaineers find hard to bring ourselves to: not going to the mountain. Like abstinence, the greatest way to ensure the most minimal amount of impact at all, is the sacrifice of our desires. Like I mentioned earlier, biophilia means ‘love of living systems’. And as the old expression goes, “If you love something, set it free.”

For those who know me very well, they know of my deep affiliation with the Himalaya, the “abode of the snows.” I have a strong draw to the Himalaya, and especially to Chomolungma, and her spirit, Miyolangsangma, ‘the mountain goddess of inexhaustible giving.’ And so sometimes people who know of this affiliation ask me, “Will you ever try to climb Everest one day?” and I say “No, probably not. Not unless some major changes come.” Chomolungma is being overrun, exploited, damaged, polluted, by the act of far too people climbing on her, by an unsustainable tourism industry, by direct impact. And I never would want to be a part of that. I can honour her and love her from a distance not so far away. I firmly believe that our desires to want to be in the mountains cannot overshadow the necessity to protect them. And this protection goes beyond direct impact; it equally includes indirect impact, the things that we do to the mountains when are not even in them.

The theme of this year’s UNIMD is Facing Change: Climate Change in Mountain Areas. Although mountains are rugged, harsh, and often vast environments, they are also extremely sensitive and vulnerable, and climate change is having a direct affect on alpine systems. To quickly note, there is no longer any debate about global warming and how humans are speeding it up. There may be a few tight collared scientists and far right wingers resisting, but the large consensus of climate experts, global ecologists, environmental researchers, and believe it or not now even President George W. Bush have compelling evidence definitely supporting that, yes, human activity is directly influencing the natural process of the greenhouse effect by spewing more heat trapping greenhouse gases, particularly CO2, into the atmosphere. If you really consider the basics of it, how could we not be? Our unnatural contributions to the greenhouse effect is altering the climate, and playing havoc on the mountains. We each play a role in this, and everything we do that effects the climate effects the mountains. This is our indirect impact on the mountains.

By curbing our personal impacts on the climate, we indirectly help the mountains. Lower impact. It’s rather easy, there are so many little things that we each can do, little things that won’t alter how we currently live in any big way, but can actually enrich our lives. Take shorter showers. Don’t leave the water running when you brush your teeth. Decrease your dependence on animal-based products, like leather. As much of our cattle farming practices are highly unsustainable, choose at least one day a week when you don’t consume any animal-based products at all; no meat, no dairy. Walk, cycle, use public transport. Turn down your heat, put on a sweater and fuzzy slippers. Buy locally produced products. Support sustainable industries like natural, cruelty-free products. Promote research and expansion of renewable resources. Bring your own reusable bag to the market. And so on. There are so many little things we can do. And some may think, “Well, I’m just one person, what kind of positive impact can I make?” Well, honestly, not much, but if you change how you live today, you just may influence someone tomorrow, and you’ll help to get the ball rolling. It is hard, I agree, but that’s why we have groups and communities of like minded individuals, like the David Suzuki Foundation, like the Jane Goodall Foundation, Green Korea Limited, Korea on the Rocks, the Korean Mountaineering League, to work together, to keep our intentions for the future in the present tense.

For us mountaineers, if we are worth the down and Goretex we wrap ourselves in, we will work to make a difference. I think that mountaineering is a way of life, a culture, but I also believe that the culture of mountaineering must be lived equally off of the mountain as it should be on the mountain.

Gandhi said, “We must become the change we want to see in the world.” There’s no better time than now.

© Shawn James Morrissey. All rights reserved. 2007-2008

All materials copyrighted unless otherwise noted, 2005-2008