Imagine watching someone scale one of the tallest skyscrapers in Asia without ropes, harnesses, or any safety net – live. That’s exactly what Alex Honnold is set to do, and it’s both awe-inspiring and deeply unsettling. But here’s where it gets controversial: is this a breathtaking display of human achievement or a reckless spectacle that crosses ethical boundaries? Let’s dive in.
For the past three months, Alex Honnold has been preparing to free solo Taipei 101, a staggering 1,667-foot (508-meter) skyscraper. This isn’t just a spur-of-the-moment stunt; it’s the culmination of a dream over a decade in the making. Free soloing, for the uninitiated, means climbing without any protective gear – just the climber and the wall. Honnold, already a legend in the climbing world and the star of the 2019 Oscar-winning documentary Free Solo, insists this ascent will feel no different from his others. As he put it on his podcast, Climbing Gold, ‘You walk up to the base, you hop onto the building, you climb all the way to the top. No ropes. No gear. No margin for error.’
This daring feat will be broadcast globally on Skyscraper Live, Netflix’s latest venture into live sports programming. Scheduled for 9 a.m. local time in Taipei on Saturday (8 p.m. ET Friday in the U.S.), the two-hour event has already sparked a mix of excitement and criticism. And this is the part most people miss: Netflix isn’t just showcasing Honnold’s skill – they’re monetizing it. Thousands are placing bets on his fate and completion time on Polymarket, a cryptocurrency-based prediction market, with odds suggesting he’ll finish in around 75 minutes.
Netflix is no stranger to live sports, having aired NFL games, boxing matches, and even Major League Baseball’s Home Run Derby. But this event feels different. Richard Deitsch, a veteran sports journalist, describes Skyscraper Live as ‘sports adjacent,’ designed to draw viewers into Netflix’s broader catalog. ‘Sports drives audience,’ he says. ‘You have to watch it live.’ Yet, Deitsch argues that streamers have an ethical duty to be transparent about the risks involved. ‘They owe you honesty,’ he says. ‘Let the audience know this isn’t 100% foolproof.’
Netflix is walking a fine line here. While they’re disclosing the risks, they’re also amplifying the drama. The live stream will include a viewer-discretion advisory and a 10-second delay, allowing them to cut the feed if necessary. Honnold will stay in constant communication with his camera crew and producers, but the question remains: Is this entertainment or exploitation?
The climbing community is divided. Critics, including a Wall Street Journal columnist, have slammed the event as ‘voyeuristic, ghoulish, and irresponsible,’ pointing to the high number of free-solo fatalities and Honnold’s role as a husband and father. Concerns were further fueled by the death of an Alaskan climbing influencer last year, whose fall was livestreamed on TikTok. Even Saturday Night Live took a jab at the ethics of Honnold’s climb in a recent sketch.
At Long Dong, a popular climbing spot northeast of Taipei, amateur climber Ai Chien summed up the unease: ‘I don’t want to see something I’m not supposed to see.’ He plans to check news reports first and watch the replay only if Honnold succeeds. Tse Hsiao-yang, a teacher and climber in Taipei, echoed this sentiment: ‘If he falls, the price is huge. I don’t understand why it has to be done this way, other than for commercial reasons.’
But not everyone is critical. Yen Shin-chou, a seasoned climber, believes Honnold wouldn’t attempt anything reckless and sees the event as an opportunity to raise Taiwan’s global profile. ‘Anyone who has climbed that long has a calm mind,’ he said. ‘It will be a breakthrough.’
From a technical standpoint, Taipei 101’s ‘bamboo box’ design offers climbers like Honnold a degree of predictability. Its stacked segments with balconies every eight floors provide regular resting points, similar to a multipitch rock climb. As Honnold explained to Netflix, ‘The challenge is the overall physicality. I don’t know how it’s going to feel.’
The only person with comparable experience is Alain Robert, the 63-year-old French climber known as ‘Spiderman,’ who scaled Taipei 101 on a top rope in 2004. Robert is confident in Honnold’s abilities: ‘He has already planned his limits. There is not even a one-in-100-million chance this will be his last climb.’ When asked about the potential trauma of witnessing an accident, Robert was blunt: ‘Death is part of life.’
Dr. Jamie Shapiro, a professor of sport and performance psychology, emphasizes the importance of Honnold’s mental preparation. ‘You can’t predict every challenge,’ she says, ‘but you can trust your training and competence. He has enough experience to stay composed if something unexpected happens.’
Here’s the question we’re left with: Is this event a celebration of human potential or a dangerous gamble for entertainment? Should we applaud Honnold’s audacity or question the ethics of broadcasting such a high-risk endeavor? Let us know your thoughts in the comments – this is one debate that’s far from over.
