One of the most important lessons I've ever learned about consequence wasn't in a boardroom.
It wasn't in technology.
It wasn't in business.
It was in the Arctic.
Eight of us started the journey.
Five of us came home.
Many years ago I was involved a number of expeditions in Arctic Sweden.
It's one of the last great wildernesses in Europe.
Vast mountains. Frozen lakes. Endless valleys.
Beautiful beyond words.
And utterly indifferent to whether you live or die.
We arrived at the same time as three young Dutchmen.
The post bus dropped us all off at the edge of civilisation, beside a hydroelectric dam where the road ended and the wilderness began.
They were great lads.
Young, confident and full of enthusiasm.
We got on immediately.
The sort of friendship travellers often form when they're heading into the unknown.
Their equipment was different from ours.
Lighter. Faster. More modern.
A single lightweight tent.
They were expecting an adventure.
Perhaps even a little fun.
None of us truly understood what was coming.
The weather was already beginning to change.
But youth has a wonderful ability to negotiate with reality.
You always think the storm will happen to somebody else.
After a while we said our goodbyes.
They headed one way.
We headed another.
And that was the last time I ever saw them.
The Arctic swallowed them.
The conditions deteriorated.
The temperatures fell.
The winds rose.
And somewhere out there, beyond the mountains and frozen lakes, those three young men lost their lives.
Our group survived.
Just.
A frozen lake boomed, cracked and splintered beneath our skis.
A three-day storm destroyed one of our tents.
I left snowblind.
And carrying something else.
The uncomfortable knowledge that the gap between survival and disaster is often much smaller than we like to believe.
For years afterwards I found myself thinking about those Dutch lads.
Not because they were reckless. They weren't.
Not because they were foolish. They weren't.
The truth is far more unsettling. They were just like us.
Good people. Capable people. Optimistic people.
People with plans for the future.
And yet only one group came home.
The Arctic taught me something I've never forgotten.
Consequence doesn't negotiate.
It doesn't care how experienced you are.
It doesn't care how intelligent you are.
It doesn't care how badly you want things to work out.
Reality always gets the final vote.
And perhaps that's why I spend so much time thinking about consequences today.
Whether it's business.
Technology. Leadership. Artificial intelligence. Or life itself.
Because before every decision, every ambition and every leap into the unknown, there is a question worth asking:
What happens next?
The Arctic taught me that question.
Three young Dutchmen made sure I never forgot it.