A young Briton dies trying to cross Greenland in a blizzard. Another goes missing while trying to sail the Pacific Ocean. Three climbers narrowly escape death in a mob fight on Mount Everest. Three sailors plan to paddle-boat across the Atlantic Ocean. That is all inside a week.
British poet Geoffrey Chaucer said that when April awakens into summer “people long to go on pilgrimages.”
Nowadays they long to go on reckless jaunts. This is the season when crazy tourism goes viral, when “gappers” dream up dangerous adventures and when no holiday is complete without some display of machismo. The latest to boom are base jumping, hang-gliding, cave-diving and cycling across deserts.
We once thought this was merely a British craving to escape health and safety watchdogs. If boys can no longer dive into a local swimming pool, they will dive off a Greek cliff. If they are not allowed to ride a horse without a crash helmet and sack of insurance certificates, they will ride a bull in Pamplona. Take adventure out of Britain and you take Britain out of adventure. It is like casino banking. It goes overseas.
Back in time, taking risk was life and death. Miners, sailors, builders, quarrymen suffered appalling injuries to support their families. To early explorers danger was the price of discovery. Christopher Columbus would not have set sail in a paddle-boat. Edmund Hillary would not have climbed Everest without oxygen. Risking death as a pastime would have seemed irrational, except for sports with origins in military prowess, such as hunting, boxing and fencing.
The mad sport of base jumping — from a cliff with a parachute — now sees about 15 deaths a year. One jump in 60 is said to end in a fatality and a successful jump is “one you survive.”
A high risk of death or injury attends pursuits such as motorbiking, big-wave surfing, altitude climbing and, a new craze, street luging. People even go sailing off the Somalian coast to defy the pirates.
All these people are seeking thrills which, by definition, they cannot find at home. Home nowadays is beyond tame. School pupils cannot swim in Snowdonia lakes without trained lifesavers. Children cannot go kayaking without attendant motor boats. You need a safety course to go on a hill walk. Around all such activity hovers a dark cloud of negligence lawyers and compensation brokers. One firm tells customers the first thing to do after any accident is “prove another person was responsible” — presumably before bothering a doctor.
The idea that a personal quest for risk is something that cannot be suppressed but merely displaced is taboo in health and safety circles.
The risk theorist John Adams of University College London has long championed what is known as the Peltzman effect, whereby people behave less cautiously where they feel more protected and vice versa.
To Adams, “everyone has a risk thermostat, and may adjust it to the risk level he likes, regardless of the experts’ best efforts to decrease the risk.”
Attempts to stifle or criminalize that thermostat merely induces a shift to other activities, often in ways that harm third parties.
Adams’ chief example has long been the most dangerous thing most people do, which is use a public road. Making them truly safe — with barriers down the middle or by banning motorbikes — is considered politically unacceptable. To Adams, most other methods, such as seat-belts, helmets and signals, may make roads safer for drivers. However, this increases their risk-taking, leading to more danger for cyclists and walkers.