TheEconomistJanuary 30th 2021 471L
aurent fratis standing on top of a
ridge line in the French alps, preparing
to leap down to the valley below. If some-
thing goes wrong, he will die. “If I can’t find
the landing area it will find me,” he jokes.
He claims not to be nervous, although he
admits that he tries not to think about his
family before he jumps. After checking that
the photographer is ready, he is off, arms
outstretched, head forward, leaping into
the void.
As the air rushes into his nylon suit, it
gives him a bit of lift, allowing him to feel
as if he is flying (in reality, he is merely fall-
ing with style). He will descend 1,500 me-
tres in around a minute before opening a
parachute. While flying, he says, he feels
“almost invincible”. For a minute or two he
feels a sense of freedom that cannot be
imagined otherwise: “You think about
where you want to go and you go there.” For
that minute of invincibility, Mr Frat has
risked his life over a thousand times.Mr Frat is a wingsuit basejumper. He
jumps from cliffs, bridges and the like
(basestands for building, antenna, span
and earth) while wearing a “wingsuit”—a
sort of nylon flying-squirrel get-up. The
sport is among the most dangerous recre-
ational activities known to man. Although
no reliable figures are kept, more than 300
basejumpers have died in the past two de-
cades. As the sport has grown, so has the
number of deaths. In the town of Chamo-
nix, though not the area around it, wing-
suiting was banned in 2016 after five people
died in the space of a few months. They in-
cluded a Russian who failed to open his
parachute and crashed into a building.
Yet the sport is surprisingly popular.
Hike in the mountains around Chamonix
on a clear, windless day and you are almost
as likely to encounter somebody walking to
an “exit point” with a parachute as you are
to find rock climbers or picnickers. Open
canopies are a common sight along certainroads. On a good day, a wingsuiter might
make three or four jumps. It is another way
to pass the hours; another thing to buy gear
for; another way to bond with pals. It just
entails a higher chance of becoming what
some wingsuiters call a “meat missile”.
This past year, thanks to covid-19, hu-
mans have faced a radical increase in risk.
Governments and individuals have decid-
ed to make huge personal and financial
sacrifices to protect people from an in-
creased chance of death. Once-unremark-
able activities, such as eating at a restau-
rant or visiting your grandchildren, are
suddenly fraught with the fear of death.
The response to the pandemic has shown
the extent to which humans are risk-
averse—it has proved quite how far they are
willing to go to avoid a chance of dying pre-
maturely. So why would anyone jump off a
cliff, and willingly expose themselves to it?
Risk-taking used to be easier to explain.
Annie Edson Taylor was a 63-year-old
schoolteacher when she decided to go over
Niagara Falls in a barrel in 1901. She hoped
to sell a book about the exploit. Evel Knie-
vel jumped motorbikes over ramps, and
eventually over a canyon in Idaho, to sell
tickets to his shows. But these days there is
less money in daredevilry. Red Bull, an en-
ergy-drinks company, sponsors many
daredevils, but chafes at the suggestion it
encourages anything dangerous. In anyRisk-takingLast of the daredevils
CHAMONIX
Before covid-19 hit, life in rich countries was safer than ever. So why do some
people risk their lives for fun?International