Richard Boock: Heroes and villains a sentence apart

It wasn't so long ago that Sir Richard Hadlee, to his outspoken dismay, was included in a book alongside some of New Zealand sport's best-known swindlers, drug-cheats and embezzlers.

The cricketer was incensed to find himself listed in the anthology Heroes and Villains, with the likes of Hayden Haitana, Keith Hancox and Robin Tait for company.

I was reminded of his discomfort this week after the outcry over Kiwi mountain man Mark Inglis, who - during a brief and dizzying spell - plummeted from national hero to national zero, all in the time it takes for Sir Edmund Hillary to utter a sentence.

This was an issue that would galvanise a country: was it right for 40 climbers, including Inglis' expedition, to leave David Sharp to die near the summit of Mt Everest, while continuing with their own ascent and subsequent descent?

Sir Ed strongly objected to the notion, saying it wouldn't have happened in his day, and the resulting outpouring of sentiment has kept the talkback hosts, newspaper columnists and internet bloggers busy all week.

Some, and I include myself in this category, found it difficult to understand how so many able-bodied and potential rescuers could not have assisted Sharp, even if he was beyond help by the time Inglis happened along.

Others point to the extreme conditions involved, the death-defying challenges being faced and the need to adopt a mantra of saving yourself first, rather than jeopardising more lives by attempting the unlikely.

Whatever the viewpoint, it brought home the fact that New Zealanders love to debate issues at the heart of their community, and that - as Hadlee discovered - there will always be those who will condemn, just as there will be those who will praise.

There will also be the truly weird; in this case the small but vocal minority who believed we shouldn't be discussing the issue unless we'd climbed Everest ourselves and experienced what it was like to struggle at 8500m.

Woe betide, then, anyone who comments on Iraq without having visited Baghdad, who ponders the collapse on Enron without being a chartered accountant, or who forms a view on self-immolation without having first torched themselves.

One man even wrote to the Herald expressing an opinion that folk were too ready to express their opinions.

The one certainty in all this is that neither Inglis nor his close supporters should feel slighted by any of the comments made this week. All they've been hearing are the highly subjective meanderings of a completely random bunch of onlookers, me included.

There is no one truth, no absolute right or wrong, and they shouldn't feel vilified by our need to discuss, debate and understand.

But neither should they feel aggrieved by any perceived negative coverage of the feat, given they so enthusiastically embraced the media at the time, and for a couple of days were happy to receive the plaudits of a nation inspired.

When you start trading on your public image you have to be prepared to take the good with the bad, including the airing of all laundry, not just the clean and sanitised versions.

What the experience has confirmed is that mountaineering - as defined by the principles and values recently demonstrated on Everest - is not a sport, and should never be treated as one by the public or media alike.

For this writer, the sorry goings-on at the highest point of the planet have exposed the challenge as little more than a modern-day treasure hunt, involving obsessive people who apparently stop at nothing to achieve their goals.

To me, their credibility has been diluted, their achievements diminished. They should be placed in a similar category to those who jump over the Niagara Falls in a barrel.