Recent news that a group of British climbers plans to summit Everest in just one week using xenon gas has reignited debates about safety, ethics, and the broader impact of commercial climbing on the 8000m industry. Austrian guide Lukas Furtenbach, the outfitter behind the expedition, defends the use of xenon as a tool for enhanced acclimatization, arguing that it improves safety by reducing time spent at high altitude.
But the question isn’t just about safety. It’s about systemic damage—how these commercialized shortcuts, justified under the banner of innovation, continue to erode the very essence of Everest and high-altitude climbing as a whole.
The Xenon Gas Debate
The use of xenon gas in mountaineering has sparked controversy, blending scientific innovation with ethical concerns. The World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) classified xenon as a prohibited substance in 2014 due to its ability to artificially enhance oxygen-carrying capacity. The International Climbing and Mountaineering Federation (UIAA) echoed these concerns, stating in ExplorersWeb:
“There is no evidence that breathing in xenon improves performance in the mountains, and inappropriate use can be dangerous.”
Lukas Furtenbach, however, defends xenon as a tool to improve safety by reducing time at high altitude. In an interview with The Financial Times, he argued that traditional doping rules shouldn’t apply to mountaineering, as it’s not an organized sport. Despite his assurances, many experts remain skeptical.
Garret Madison of Madison Mountaineering, speaking to ExplorersWeb, stated:
“I don’t offer performance-enhancing drugs to my clients.”
Similarly, Adrian Ballinger, CEO of Alpenglow Expeditions, expressed concerns in the same article:
“There is also a safety issue. Banned substances like EPO involve risks, and with the limited rescue resources on the upper sections of Everest, that risk becomes huge.”
Alan Arnette, a respected climber and blogger, shared his perspective:
“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. Everest isn’t about rushing to the top—it’s about the journey, the preparation, and the respect for the mountain.”
Furtenbach insists:
“Commercial guided expeditions are not a competition, so this can’t be doping,” he says, adding that the substance is not used to enhance performance but to prevent altitude sickness.
Sadly, this couldn’t be further from the truth, as demonstrated when two American women died on Shishapangma alongside their Nepalese guides while racing to the summit. This incident underscores the human cost of prioritizing speed and records over ethics and safety. Some argue that the women were emulating some of the industry leaders who rose to fame from so-called record-breaking initiatives, who were themselves racing against each other.
The Decline of the 8000m Industry
The controversy around xenon gas is part of a broader trend that has reshaped the 8000m climbing industry. Feats once defined by self-reliance, skill, and respect for the mountains are now driven by logistics, speed, and profit. Achievements that used to represent profound human endurance have become commodified pursuits.
The 14 peaks project exemplifies this shift. Originally a testament to human perseverance, it has become a race enabled by airlifts, back-to-back ascents, and extensive Sherpa support.
While climbers often bear public criticism, the deeper issues lie with those profiting from this system. Few hold the current leaders in the industry to account—those whose strategies, philosophies, and decisions shape the very framework of high-altitude climbing. Their clients, often embodying these same approaches, have paid the ultimate price: their lives. Who holds these leaders accountable? Who questions the ethics of a system that prioritizes profit and records over safety and sustainability?
This lack of accountability raises uncomfortable questions about the responsibility of those driving the industry forward. When climbers perish in pursuit of glory, is it solely their ambition at fault, or is it the system they entered, one designed to sell the dream of achievement without adequately addressing the risks? These are not just isolated tragedies but systemic failures that demand scrutiny and, most importantly, change.
Everest as a Mirror
Everest, once a symbol of human resilience, now reflects the troubling trajectory of the entire 8000m industry. Supplemental oxygen flows at rates of 4 to 8 liters per minute, reducing Everest’s challenge to something akin to Kilimanjaro. With Sherpas carrying the majority of the load, what remains of the accomplishment?
The transformation of Everest into a mirror extends beyond its physical slopes. It forces us to confront broader questions about values, priorities, and the cost of ambition. What is being sacrificed in the pursuit of speed, records, and accolades? Who shoulders the risks, and who reaps the rewards?
What does it say about us when we accept this system without question? Mismanagement, subpar decision-making, and profit-driven motives create an ecosystem where preventable tragedies unfold year after year. Misreporting often blamed overcrowding or weather, but the root causes were far more complex: inadequate leadership, irresponsible risk assessments, and insufficient safety protocols.
As B.R. Ambedkar observed:
“History shows that where ethics and economics come in conflict, victory is always with the economics.”
This quote rings painfully true on Everest. Ethics often take a back seat to economic incentives, and the sanctity of the mountains is compromised in the process. The mountain no longer belongs to those who climb with humility and respect—it has become a playground for profit and spectacle.
After 20 years of working on these slopes, on K2 and Everest, partaking in and documenting rescues, meeting families of the deceased, and speaking with climbers who continue their pursuits without fully realizing the magnitude of the wounds they bear, I have witnessed firsthand the ripple effects of this industry. These impacts, both seen and unseen, will continue to play out across communities and generations.
A Call for Reflection
It seems long gone are the days of alpinism when fair means, humility, and reverence were the pursuit. Alpinists once embodied an ethos of meeting the mountain on its terms, valuing the journey over the destination. The tools of the trade were simplicity and self-reliance, and the spirit of the climb was defined by respect for the mountain and its unforgiving nature.
In treating Everest and other peaks as commodities, have we lost our ability to connect—not only with the mountain but with ourselves and the communities that sustain these climbs? If Everest teaches us anything, it is to ask the deeper questions: Why do we climb? What are we seeking at the summit? And at what cost are we willing to achieve it?
Perhaps the most profound question is this: in reducing Everest to a commodity, have we diminished not only its sanctity but also ourselves?
Conclusion
Everest hasn’t changed—we have. The mountain remains vast, timeless, indifferent, and will survive us all. It is we who must change. To restore the sanctity of the 8000m industry, we must begin by restoring our own reverence, humility, and purpose.
Everest doesn’t need to change; we do. Only then can we rediscover what it truly means to climb—and to live.
Sources
- ExplorersWeb – “You Can Now Climb Everest in a Week Using Xenon Gas”
- ExplorersWeb – Everest in a week – Lukas Furtenbach enters the debate
- The Financial Times – “The Seven-Day Everest Climb”
- Alan Arnette – Everest 2025 Updates
- UIAA – Official Statements on Xenon Use
- Adrian Ballinger and Garrett Madison quoted via ExplorersWeb
