Arctic adventure and the power of tribes
This week I was truly saddened to hear about the death of Ueli Steck. For those not familiar with 'The Swiss Machine' he is regarded as one of the greatest climbers ever. He climbed the Eiger in 2hr 47minutes and the Matterhorn in 1hr 57. Two years ago he climbed 82 Alpine peaks in just 60 days. He has pushed beyond what anyone thought was possible, and he died doing what he loved on Everest. His death made me think about the power of 'tribes' and what marketers can learn from it.
Ueli Steck doing what he does, which is the last thing most people would want to do
He joins a long list of people who have given their lives to the mountains. Most consider the Stecks of this world 'adrenaline junkies'. I find the term slightly demeaning. The impression is that these addicts spiral out of control, taking increasingly irresponsible risks in the hunt for a bigger high until it all comes to an end which is as predicable as it is tragic.
I'm not for one moment going to argue that adrenaline is not a huge factor. But I believe this is a bi-product of deeper motivations, and understanding those motivations is useful for all of us but particularly marketers.
The reason I say this is three months ago the below picture was my POV taken from a helmet cam. It may not look like much so let me explain what's going on. We're on the east coast of Greenland - also known as the least populated country on earth. 3,000 people live on this side of the island, with a coastline that is the same length as Australia's. I'm climbing with crampons on my feet and an ice axe in my hand. To my right is a vertical drop of 1,000m. The slope we're climbing has a gradient of 45 degrees and the temperature is hovering around -25C. My ice axe is so cold that it's actually stuck to my glove. Ahead of me in yellow trousers is a Swedish skier and climber with over 30 years experience doing this. Ahead of him is Matt, former mixed climbing junior world champion and an International Mountain Guide. Right now I'm so scared I can barely force my legs to move any further. The adrenaline is coursing through my body but I can assure you I'm not enjoying it one bit. I'm focused on only one thing - making it to the summit.
I am a natural born coward who’ll look to avoid risk wherever possible; so the key question is how have I found myself in this situation? The answer is not the search for adrenaline. In fact at this moment I'd do about anything to get rid of it. The answer is in identity and belonging.
Humans are social organisms that require structure and hierarchy. We are particularly fond of forming ourselves into social subcultures - what marketers would call tribes. These subcultures hold immense power of persuasion. They also all share a detailed social ranking or hierarchy. At the top are the long-standing leaders, the guys everyone else looks up to.
For many years I’ve considered myself part of this tribe of mountaineers. I follow all the right influencers and I buy the brands that I know other tribe members will give me a nod of approval. But I struggled with my identity and belonging. How could I really call myself a mountaineer and extreme skier if I hadn’t actually had serious adventures of my own? I was craving the status to be able to say, “yes I’ve done that”. The status that would take me a step higher on that hierarchy.
That’s how I found myself living in an inuit village for ten days in Kulusuk Greenland, with an average temperature of -15C at sea level, an alarmingly real threat of polar bears and thousands of miles from the nearest hospital.
Brands that have a natural connection to a tribe do not know how lucky they are. They are talking to an audience that won’t just be desperate to buy your products as a mark of identity, but they will dedicate - and in some extreme cases risk - their life to belong to that subculture.
To take advantage, these brands need to embed themselves deep into those cultures, being a credible and authentic enabler who can partner with the leaders to influence those further down the hierarchy desperate to belong.
