If I were to fall, I wouldn’t fall far. I could feel the reassuring weight of the harness around my waist; I could feel the slight tug of the carabiners that joined me to the metal wire bolted into the rock. My hands and feet had a solid hold on the rock in front of me. Yet despite my knowledge that I was securely fastened to the rock, I was afraid. Yes, I was scared. I didn’t want to fall. There was no good foothold in sight and the next step would force me to leave my secure position and simply trust in my ability and my equipment. Palms sweaty, heart beating fast, all other thoughts forgotten as I focussed my whole attention on the rock in front of me. I paused, took a deep breath, and took the step.
Fear is certainly an emotion that mountaineers know well. Indeed, the Summer 2021 issue of the popular mountaineering magazine ‘Berg und Steigen’ was dedicated to this emotion.[1] From a historical point of view, the topic touches on two main fields of research: the history of emotions and the history of mountaineering, both of which have developed only in recent decades. Within the history of emotions, there is a central dialectic: whether emotions have a history, or whether they are unchanging. Sociologists and anthropologists tend to argue in favour of the former – that emotions are constructs of our culture; neuroscientists, on the other hand, tend towards the latter approach (with some noteworthy exceptions[2]). Specific case studies have included the response to the terror attacks of 9/11[3], but in the academic world the history of fear has not been explored in depth in relation to mountaineering. This essay will therefore examine to what extent fear has developed over the history of mountaineering.
In Europe, the sport first rose in popularity in the west, where the Alps were and still are a major centre. It is commonly understood that mountaineering in a ‘contemporary sporting sense’ originated in 1760 when the Swiss scientist Horace-Bénédict de Saussure offered prize money for the ascent of Mont Blanc; before that the ascension of mountain peaks was largely conducted for religious or scientific reasons.[4] The global leadership in recent years of climbers such as Adam Ondra from the Czech Republic and Aleksandra Miroslaw from Poland demonstrates the extent to which the sport has since developed not only in the West but also in Central and Eastern Europe. Nonetheless, it does not have such a well-established history in these countries: the first recorded ascents in Bohemia, for example, were made at the beginning of the twentieth century,[5] while in the Soviet Union, climbing became an ‘official’ sport only after the end of the First World War.[6] For this reason, my discussion will focus on the British and German mountaineering scene, but its relevance certainly extends beyond those borders.
In the Mountains: What is Fear?
Fear has always been associated with knowledge and understanding. People are afraid of what they do not comprehend. Long has a specific correlation been made between fear and our understanding of nature, as in the following passage from ‘The Georgics’ by the Latin poet Virgil from 29 BC:
‘Happy, who had the skill to understand
Nature’s hid causes, and beneath his feet
All terrors cast, and death’s relentless doom […]’[7]
‘Understanding’ is here considered a skill that can be acquired. When in possession of this skill, Virgil suggests that the person may overcome and take control of their fear by casting the terrors ‘beneath his feet’. Indeed, it is still commonly thought that by naming the fear, it loses its power over us.[8] For this reason – due to a lack of understanding – the mountains were treated with superstition throughout the Medieval period, the Renaissance and the early Enlightenment. As the British writer Fergus Fleming argued, the Alps themselves ‘were a source of fear’ and personified the terrors people conjured up in their imaginations.[9]
However, over time the mountains became more familiar and therefore less a source of fear in and of themselves. In the eighteenth century, science began to shed light on the secrets and mysteries of the mountains and therefore to dispel superstitious fears. By the nineteenth century, the Alps had become a popular destination for young, wealthy individuals and a mainstay of literature. The twentieth century brought the mountains into film, which made them accessible and thereby less mysterious even to non-mountain-goers.
Moreover, as the Alps were mapped, developed and exploited – as humans increased their influence in these wild areas and felt increasingly in control – our fear of the place further subsided. Richard Hechtel notes with a certain nostalgia the changing face of the Alps in the second half of the twentieth century: how, with the growing German economy from the 1950s, the infrastructure and tourist industry in the mountains was developed.[10] The source of fear therefore narrowed from the unknown dangers of an unfamiliar place to the specific danger of falling. Only in our age of social media and constant noise could fear still be engendered by the silence of the mountains: ‘Einfach “nur da” zu sein, ganz ohne Echo – kommt offenbar einem angstauslösenden “Nichtsein” gleich.’[11]
In terms of the specific danger encountered by climbing[12] in the mountains, the symptoms of fear remain unchanged: mountaineers throughout the centuries describe the same physical effects. In his work A Treatise of Human Nature in 1739, the Scottish philosopher David Hume touched on humans’ essential fear of heights when he considered ‘the case of a man, who being hung out from a high tower in a case of iron cannot forbear trembling, when he surveys the precipice below him, tho’ he knows himself to be perfectly secure from falling, by his experience of the solidity of the iron, which supports him.’[13] Similarly, Coleridge at the beginning of the nineteenth century recorded a similar expression of fear: ‘My Limbs were all in a Tremble’.[14] The same symptoms are still experienced in the twenty-first century, as multiple contemporary climbers will attest.[15]
Fear, the Sublime and Vision
While the symptoms have remained the same over time, mountaineers’ attitudes towards fear have changed. In the Age of Enlightenment, fear was associated with the sublime – an attitude described by Edmund Burke in 1757 as ‘that state of the soul, in which all its motions are suspended, with some degree of horror.’ Burke elaborated on the relationship of the sublime to fear in the following way: ‘No passion so effectually robs the mind of all its powers of acting and reasoning as fear, for fear being an apprehension of pain and death, it operates in a manner that resembles actual pain. Whatever therefore is terrible, with regard to sight too is sublime, whether this cause of terror be endured with greatness of dimension or not.’[16] The enjoyment and pleasure gained from mountaineering, with its splendid vistas, thus made it into a sublime experience rather than a purely fearful one. Similarly, Kant in 1790 examined the distinction between the sublime and fear and concluded that whereas fear was entirely painful, the sublime was combined with delight.[17] Thus fear in its sublime form became a desirable emotion.
Moreover, the Romantic writers recorded the positive impact of fear on their emotions, which gives an insight into their understanding of the emotional sequence induced by fear. In the later documentation of his climb in Wales in 1798, the future cleric William Bingley described how, afterwards, he felt ‘a degree of spirit and alacrity that I should certainly not have enjoyed, had it not been from the remembrance of the dangers we had passed, and the knowledge that these were at an end.’[18] Likewise, for another climber, the ‘hilarity I enjoyed was such as I have felt after drinking champaigne [sic].’[19] Such positive feelings demonstrate the confidence that the mountaineers now possessed and suggest an element of mastery over the environment in conquering their fears. Moreover, these feelings were accredited directly to fear. In this way, fear was again combined with a unique pleasure and delight that was remarkable in its intensity.
In particular, the ways in which fear is overcome have changed. Many Romantic writers who engaged in the popular sport of mountaineering ascribed the overcoming of fear to a moment of vision: this experience coincided with their Romantic ideals. Up until that point, the dangers and their fear had been almost paralyzing, but this vision allowed them to continue. The poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge described how he, following this vision, ‘lay in a state of almost prophetic Trance & Delight […] feeling calm & fearless & confident.’ He interpreted this as a ‘testimony to God’.[20] Essentially, the Romantics felt as if they encountered a greater power in the mountains that gave them a strength and courage beyond their own and allowed them to move past their fear.
Additionally, the acquisition of these attributes was among the reasons for going mountaineering in the first place, as fear was considered educational, and the overcoming of fear was seen as a worthy aspiration. Thomas Wilkinson, a friend of Wordsworth, wrote that he, on reaching the summit of one climb, ‘stood without trembling, and the apprehension of giddiness left me in the descent; so that perhaps, if I had practiced climbing, and taken a lesson twice a day on this rock, it might have been the school of courage for me.’[21] Wilkinson thus anticipated that fear was not an unchanging emotion but could be trained through repetition. Similarly, in The Prelude, Wordsworth refers to the central role that fear played in his development through his education ‘by the impressive discipline of fear’,[22] thereby suggesting a great deal of respect was held by the mountaineers of this period towards the emotion and its effects on the mind and body. Their determination to engage in such a character development again aligned with the Romantic ideals of the attributes they wished to possess.
While many of these writers shared the belief that it was the atmosphere of the mountain summits that produced these powerful feelings, Coleridge was ahead of his time in ‘linking the physical and physiological demands of climbing to the post-climb visionary state’.[23] It was only in the second half of the twentieth century that the climber Doug Robinson dedicated himself to the exploration of the idea that the ‘physical and emotional challenges of climbing can trigger bio-chemical pathways in the brain leading to visionary experience in the mind’.[24] This was inspired by the increasing neuroscientific research on the bio-chemical functions of the brain.
The Mountaineer’s Fear as an Object of Science
In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, fear has been treated with considerably less awe. Instead, it is now normalised and has simply become an integral part of mountaineering: ‘Hope, fear. Hope, fear – this is the fundamental rhythm of mountaineering.’[25] Indeed, in a recent German guide to mountaineering, the author takes a very rational approach to fear and treats it with the utmost acceptance:
‘Angst zu haben vor Neuem, Ungewohnten ist eine natürliche Sache. Angst ist ein Urreflex, der den Menschen vor Schaden bewahrt. Der Bergsteiger sollte sich grundsätzlich zu seiner Angst bekennen, sie vor dem Partner äußern und sie nie unterdrücken. Durch den Erwerb von Selbstvertrauen, durch Lernen und Training werden Ängste auf natürliche Weise abgebaut […].’[26]
Here, it is clearly emphasized as being entirely ‘natural’ – nothing out of the ordinary or remarkable in any way. There is no longer any higher power attributed to it, nor is it associated with a visionary state. Moreover, fear is less a mystery and now an object of widespread study. Academics across the disciplines of neuroscience, psychology and sociology explain the various processes involved in experiencing fear and our physiological and psychological responses to it, including the motor, autonomous and conscious processes. Fear is also differentiated into two main forms: ‘adaptive survival response’ and thoughts that are generated internally.[27] Now we not only have a name for fear, but for the different kinds of fear and for its individual stages.
Moreover, it is now a lack of fear that attracts more attention and discussion. The attitudes towards the free solo rock climber Alex Honnold show how our relationship to fear has changed. Above all, the confrontation with this issue is led by neuroscience. Honnold’s apparent complete lack of fear while scaling exposed rock faces without a rope aroused the interest of neuroscientists, who persuaded him to allow them to conduct a brain scan in 2016. The object of the investigation was to discover whether his amygdala – the site in the brain that is understood to control humans’ response to fear – functioned in the same way as in most people. The study revealed that while he did have an amygdala and it was functioning, it required more stimulation to make it respond. This led the neuroscientists to conclude that his amygdala had most likely been dulled by the constant overstimulation.[28] This, then, is the contemporary neuroscientific version of an ‘education in fear’ and the way in which it is possible to overcome it: rather than learning to control your fear, it is now thought that your brain can become numbed to the stimulation.
Conclusion
As our understanding of the mountains has developed, the source of fear has moved from the unknown dangers of the mountains as a place of superstition to the rational and specific fear of falling or hurting yourself. While the symptoms remain the same, the feelings and attributes associated with it have changed as well as the ways in which it is overcome. Moreover, fear itself is now more understood as neuroscientists and psychologists grapple with the processes engaged in by our brains. In this way, the contemporary mountaineer has a better idea not only of the physical challenges he is facing in the mountains, but also of what he is up against inside his own body.
[1] Bendler, Gebi, ed. (2021), Berg und Steigen, 115, pp. 84-114
[2] For a key example of a neuroscientist disproving the essentialism of emotions, see: Feldman Barrett, Lisa (2017), How Emotions are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain, Pan Books: London. In the book, she argues that emotions ‘are not triggered; you create them. They emerge as a combination of the physical properties of your body, a flexible brain that wires itself to whatever environment it develops in, and your culture and upbringing, which provide that environment’ [kindle].
[3] See Stearns, Peter N. (2006), American Fear: The Causes and Consequences of High Anxiety, Routledge: New York
[4] ‘Mountaineering’ (2021), Britannica [online]. Available at: https://www.britannica.com/sports/mountaineering [last accessed 23 Aug 21]
[5] Chaloupsky, David (2013), ‘Rock climbing in Czech Paradise: Historical development of the frequency of traditional ascents at selected sandstone towers’, Journal of Human Sport and Exercise, 9, pp. 276-283
[6] Shipman, Samuel S. (1937), ‘Sports in the Soviet Union’, Current History (1916-1940), 47, pp. 81-85
[7] Virgil (29 BC), Georgic II, Project Gutenberg [online]. Available at: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/232/232-h/232-h.htm#book02 [last accessed 24 Aug 21]
[8] Moulin, Margarete (2021), ‘Das Rumpelstilzchen der Seele’, Berg und Steigen, 115, pp. 84-87
[9] Fleming, Fergus (2004), ‘The Alps and the Imagination’, Ambio, Special Report Number 13. The Royal Colloquium: Mountain Areas: A Global Resource, pp.51-55
[10] Hechtel, Richard (2011), Hundert Jahre Felsklettern: die Geschichte eines gesellschaftlichen Phänomens: Sektion Bayern des deutschen Alpennvereins: München
[11] Moulin, ‘Rumpelstilzchen‘
[12] In this essay, the terms ‘climbing’ and ‘mountaineering’ will be used interchangeably.
[13] Hume, David (1939), A Treatise of Human Nature, Penguin Books: London, p146
[14] Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1956-71), Collected Letters of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Vol. 2: 1801-1806, ed. Earl Leslie Griggs, pp. 841-842
[15] See for example: Trenkwalder, Pauli (2021), ‘Wir sind alle Angstexperten’, Berg und Steigen, 115, pp. 98-101
[16] Burke, Edmund (2015), A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful, Oxford University Press: Oxford [kindle]
[17] Kant, Immanuel (2009), Critique of Judgement, Oxford University Press: Oxford [kindle]
[18] Bingley, William (1800) ‘A Tour round North Wales, Performed during the Summer of 1798’, E. Williams: London, I, p220. This was the first such documentation of a climb in Britain.
[19] Palmer, Joseph (1795), A Fortnight’s Ramble to the Lakes in Westmorland, Lancashire, and Cumberland, J. Nichols: London, pp256-7
[20] Coleridge, Collected Letters
[21] Wilkinson, Thomas (1824), Tours to the British Mountains: With the Descriptive Poems of Lowther, and Emont Vale, Taylor and Hessey: London, p123
[22] Wordsworth, William (1979), The Prelude, in Jonathan Wordsworth et al (eds), W.W. Norton (New York), I
[23] Bainbridge, Mountaineering, p142
[24] Robinson, Doug (2013), The Alchemy of Action, Moving over Stone: Kirkwood [kindle]. The essay was originally published in the climbing magazine Ascent in 1969.
[25] Macfarlane, Robert (2003), Mountains of the Mind: A History of a Fascination, Granta Books: London, p71
[26] Stückl, Pepi and Sojer, Georg (2002/2006), Bergsteigen: Lehrbuch und Ratgeber für alle Formen des Bergsteigens, Bruckmann Verlag: München, p26, italics in original.
[27] Schweikart, Alexandra (2021), ‘Alles nur in deinem Kopf – Die Sturzangst’, Berg und Steigen, 115, pp.108-114
[28] MacKinnon, James Bernard (2021), ‘In extremen Köpfen’, Berg und Steigen, 115, pp. 88-97