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Climbers line up for hours to reach the summit of Mount Everest on May 22. Photo: @nimsdai Project Possible via AFP
Opinion
Opinion
by Gregory Reck and Dinesh Paudel
Opinion
by Gregory Reck and Dinesh Paudel

The real tragedy behind the Everest traffic jam: climate catastrophe and the capitalist malaise at the heart of contemporary life

  • Everest is one in a long list of indigenous holy sites that have become commodified and sold to the wealthy. While these experiences are packaged as a chance to get closer to nature, the underlying theme is of conquest

The iconic photograph, taken by climber Nirmal Purja, showing a queue of hundreds of people waiting their turn to reach the summit of Mount Everest, took the international media by storm. The photo captures both the danger and the absurdity of so many paying so much for adventure atop the roof of the planet.

The photograph and subsequent reports created a media frenzy desperate to explain and attribute blame for the travesty and resulting deaths. The Nepalese government is accused of monetising the mountain. The tourism sector is blamed for using inadequate equipment and skimping on preparation, accepting any climber regardless of experience or physical fitness. Sherpas, virtually the only adequately trained and experienced climbers scaling Everest, are accused of being less concerned about safety than about maximising the number of climbers.

This narrative targets the usual suspects – greed, inefficiency, corruption and inexperience. Yet, if one reflects more deeply on the photograph, a different and more disturbing interpretation emerges.

This alternative narrative begins with the reminder that Everest is a holy site for millions of ethnic people who live in the high-altitude Himalayas. To the ethnic Sherpa populations, who live in the immediate vicinity of Everest, the mountain and the surrounding terrain have always symbolised the interdependence of society and nature.

Veteran Nepalese mountaineer Kami Rita Sherpa prays at Bauddhanath Stupa before he leaves for the Everest summit on April 10. He broke a world record by scaling the peak for the 24th time. Photo: EPA-EFE

While it is true that Sherpas have become a part of the Everest tragedy, it is a reluctant participation, the same sort of colonial seduction that has trapped marginalised indigenous communities around the world into positions of servitude in relation to those who control powerful political and economic forces.

The commodification of this Himalayan holy space echoes a theme oft-repeated over the past 500 years. Exploited for their material resources, these indigenous traditional sites have all become spaces for capital accumulation. Think of Machu Picchu in the high Andes, the Black Hills in the Dakotas, Uluru in the Australian outback or the countless other indigenous holy sites from the Arctic to the Amazon that have been transformed by global forces into economic resources of one kind or another.

The second part of this more disturbing narrative is the all-encompassing power of global capitalism. Capitalism has commodified everything, transforming humans, nature, the landscape and, indeed, life itself into a value calculated within the framework of profit and loss.

Uluru, which is sacred to the local Aboriginal people, is lit by the setting sun in Australia’s Northern Territory on April 21, 2014. Photo: Reuters
Everest is part of a burgeoning and profitable adventure tourism industry. Rivers, canyons, mountain tops, jungles and deserts are all transformed into thrill-producing objects for those who can afford them. While this industry argues that these adventures, including climbing Everest, bring one closer to nature, the opposite is true.

Nature becomes an object to be consumed and paid for; something to be used by a select few humans to compensate for an alienated existence that disables our ability to see life as inherently adventurous. Moreover, the adventure tourism industry is infused with the conquest mentality. White-water rafting, wilderness skiing, hang-gliding off mountains, rock climbing and scaling mountain peaks like Everest are described and experienced within the trope of conquest.

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Capitalism has not only commodified nature, but has framed it as an enemy to be dominated. This only widens the nature-human divide.

The other aspect of this alternative narrative is the global climate catastrophe.

An estimated one-third of the Himalayan ice fields could disappear by the year 2100. Increased landslides, drought, erratic and unpredictable weather will result. More than 14 major river systems originate in the Himalayas, providing a lifeline for several billion people in Nepal and India who depend on the complex Himalayan ecosystems for their survival.

The existence of those people becomes more tenuous daily. The warming of the region is the proverbial canary in the coal mine, a harbinger of an escalating disaster for the region and the entire planet.

The climate catastrophe, produced by global capitalism, is already destroying the lives of vulnerable peoples in the Himalayas, the whole of Nepal and much of the rest of the world.

The forces of ever-expanding capital accumulation, insatiable consumption of Earth’s resources and the commodification of everything on the planet are creating a dystopian future. Conquest and the nature-culture divide have always been embedded into the ideology of capitalism and are nowhere more present than in the adventure tourism assault on Everest.

This is the tragic backstory of the recent events on Everest that Purja’s photograph unintentionally captures. The image is a perfect representation of what is terribly wrong at this historical juncture. While climate catastrophe looms over the planet and Everest, hundreds of people pay, what for most is a small fortune, to stroke their individual egos and “conquer” nature.

The financially privileged few, purchasing a holiday package that promises adventure and spectacle, exemplify the ego-fed, commodified blindness of the so-called industrialised world. Talk about Nero fiddling while Rome burns.

This tragic and ugly reality flies in the face of the inherent majesty of Everest and the Himalayas. Yet, it must be emphasised and digested over and over again until humans accept that we are a part of nature, not its overlords.

Gregory Reck is research professor of anthropology at Appalachian State University, US. He has conducted sociocultural research in rural Nepal, Mexico and India. Dinesh Paudel, a native of Nepal, is associate professor of sustainable development at Appalachian State University. He has conducted extensive research on development and climate change in Nepal

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