BOOK REVIEW
The Promise: How an everyday hero made the impossible possible, by Arnold Dix, Simon & Schuster Australia (2025), 304 pages, $28.75 (Paperback), ISBN 978-1-7614-2916-3.
The book opens with a confession that feels almost like a warning. Arnold Dix tells the reader that they should not know who he is. He presents himself as a man who has worked quietly for decades, arriving at disaster sites, doing the job, and leaving without applause. This calm anonymity is shattered by a single event in late 2023, when forty-one construction workers are trapped inside a collapsed tunnel high in the Himalayas. The tension of the prologue lies in this sudden reversal. A man who has trained himself to remain unseen is forced into public view, not because he seeks recognition, but because the scale of the crisis demands it. From the first pages, the reader senses that this memoir will not be a celebration of heroism, but a careful account of responsibility, fear, and moral choice under pressure.
The Promise is written by Professor Arnold Dix, an Australian geologist, barrister, and rescue expert. He is the elected president of the International Tunnelling and Underground Space Association, a Geneva based body representing tens of thousands of professionals across more than eighty countries. Alongside this role, he has worked for decades on underground safety, environmental law, and disaster response. His career has placed him at the intersection of engineering, science, law, and ethics. He has investigated tunnel collapses, advised governments, and taught at universities, often in a voluntary capacity. These credentials matter because the book is not merely a personal story. It is an account of how expert judgment, moral resolve, and institutional trust come together during extreme events. Dix writes as someone who understands both the physical behaviour of mountains and the fragile behaviour of human systems under stress.
At its core, the book is about promises. The central promise is the one Dix makes to the trapped workers and their families, even before he reaches the site. He promises that he will not leave until every possible option has been exhausted. Around this central vow, the memoir explores several themes. One is the constant tension between human ambition and natural forces. Another is the quiet ethics of rescue work, where decisions are made with incomplete information and fatal consequences. The book is structured chronologically across twenty one chapters, beginning with the tunnel collapse and then moving backward into Dix’s childhood and career, before returning to the rescue itself. Arguments are not laid out in an academic sense, but they are built through experience. Each chapter adds another layer to the reader’s understanding of why Dix acts the way he does when the crisis unfolds.
The Promise makes an important contribution to international relations, even though it is not written as a policy text. The rescue becomes a moment of cooperation between India and Australia, driven not by formal treaties but by trust between professionals. Dix shows how technical expertise can function as a form of soft diplomacy. His presence in India is not that of a foreign authority imposing solutions, but of a collaborator listening to local engineers, soldiers, and workers. This challenges the usual narratives of international aid, which often focus on institutional power rather than professional solidarity. The book also adds to discussions of construction safety by exposing how political pressure, religious significance, and economic urgency can collide with geological reality. Dix does not excuse failure, but he explains how systems drift toward danger long before disaster strikes.
Ethics sit at the heart of the memoir. Dix repeatedly stresses that rescue work is not about bravery in the cinematic sense. It is about restraint. One of the most striking moments in the book is his admission that a single wrong move could kill not only the trapped workers but also the rescuers. This forces him to confront the moral weight of authority. Should he push for faster action to give families hope, or slow everything down to reduce risk? These are not abstract dilemmas. They play out in real time, under the gaze of politicians, media, and a grieving public. The book contributes to ethical debates in rescue operations by showing how moral clarity often comes from knowing when not to act.
Some of Dix’s positions may provoke disagreement among practitioners. He is openly critical of construction decisions that allowed work to continue after multiple earlier collapses inside the same tunnel. He questions the culture of optimism that treats mountains as problems to be solved rather than forces to be respected. This stance may clash with dominant development narratives that prioritise speed and national pride. Dix also resists the idea that more technology automatically leads to safer outcomes. At several points, he argues for simpler, slower methods over advanced machines that can destabilise already fragile ground. These views may conflict with industry trends that emphasise scale and automation.
The book invites healthy debate by refusing to present a single hero or a single villain. Dix acknowledges his own limits and mistakes. He describes moments of doubt, frustration, and fear. He also portrays Indian engineers and workers with respect, emphasising their local knowledge and resilience. The tension between global expertise and local experience runs through the narrative. Rather than resolving this tension, the book allows it to remain visible, encouraging readers to question easy assumptions about who holds knowledge in crisis situations.
Across its twenty-one chapters, the memoir unfolds with careful pacing. The first chapter, titled with stark directness, establishes the worst possible scenario and the sheer scale of danger. The next few chapters trace Dix’s journey to the site, using physical travel as a metaphor for moral commitment. As the chapters progress, the focus shifts from movement to waiting. The middle sections dwell on the slow work of drilling, listening, and monitoring the mountain’s behaviour. Each chapter ends with uncertainty, pushing the reader forward. Later chapters return to Dix’s past, including his childhood fascination with rocks and his varied careers, before circling back to the rescue. This structure creates a rhythm of tension and release, showing how past experiences quietly prepare a person for a moment they cannot foresee.
The later chapters focus on resolution, but not closure in a sentimental sense. The successful rescue does not end the story. Instead, Dix reflects on what it means to live with the knowledge that luck, timing, and collective effort played such large roles. The final chapters emphasise humility rather than triumph. The transition from crisis to reflection feels earned because the reader has travelled through every delay, argument, and risk alongside the author.
The Promise stands alongside other memoirs of disaster response, such as accounts by surgeons, firefighters, and humanitarian workers. What sets it apart is its focus on the underground, a space that is both literal and symbolic. Unlike many crisis narratives, this book avoids dramatic exaggeration. Its tone is closer to careful observation than spectacle. In this sense, it aligns with the best traditions of long form nonfiction found in outlets like The New Yorker or The Atlantic, where restraint often carries more power than drama (Zinsser, 2013).
The book is deeply relevant to questions of diversity, inclusion, and social justice. The trapped workers are migrant labourers, often invisible in grand infrastructure narratives. Dix makes a point of naming them, listening to their fears, and respecting their dignity. He does not frame them as passive victims, but as participants who endure uncertainty with remarkable calm. The rescue operation itself becomes a study in inclusion, bringing together soldiers, engineers, villagers, and international experts across lines of language, class, and nationality.
For social science researchers and scholars of organisations, the book offers a rich case study in crisis management. Concepts such as high reliability organisations (Haslam et al., 2022), sensemaking under pressure (Cornelissen, 2012), and ethical leadership (Brown & Treviño, 2006) are illustrated through lived experience rather than theory. Dix’s emphasis on staying calm, sharing information openly, and resisting panic aligns with established research on effective crisis response (Massey & Larsen, 2006). Policy makers working in infrastructure and safety management will find the book a sobering reminder that risk is not eliminated by planning alone but managed through culture and accountability.
One of the most human elements of the memoir is Dix’s use of personal nostalgia (Merchant et al., 2011). At several moments, he recalls his mother’s advice to give things a good try, his early days exploring rocks, and even his unsuccessful attempts at farming sunflowers. These memories are not distractions. They serve as anchors, helping him remain steady when the pressure becomes overwhelming. Nostalgia, in this sense, is not about longing for the past but about drawing strength from it (Routledge et al., 2012).
The Promise is a memoir that refuses easy lessons. It does not claim that expertise alone can save lives, nor that goodwill is enough. Instead, it shows how preparation, humility, and ethical resolve intersect in moments of extreme risk. Arnold Dix writes with clarity and restraint, offering readers a rare glimpse into the moral and technical realities of rescue work. The book leaves a lasting impression not because of its outcome, but because of its insistence that promises matter, especially when they are made in the dark, under a mountain, with everything at stake.
References
Brown, M. E., & Treviño, L. K. (2006). Ethical leadership: A review and future directions. The leadership quarterly, 17(6), 595-616.
Cornelissen, J. P. (2012). Sensemaking under pressure: The influence of professional roles and social accountability on the creation of sense. Organization Science, 23(1), 118-137.
Haslam, S. A., Jetten, J., Maskor, M., McMillan, B., Bentley, S. V., Steffens, N. K., & Johnston, S. (2022). Developing high-reliability organisations: A social identity model. Safety science, 153, 105814.
Massey, J. E., & Larsen, J. P. (2006). Crisis management in real time: How to successfully plan for and respond to a crisis. Journal of Promotion Management, 12(3-4), 63-97.
Merchant, A., Ford, J. B., & Rose, G. (2011). How personal nostalgia influences giving to charity. Journal of Business Research, 64(6), 610-616.
Routledge, C., Wildschut, T., Sedikides, C., Juhl, J., & Arndt, J. (2012). The power of the past: Nostalgia as a meaning-making resource. Memory, 20(5), 452-460.
Zinsser, W. (2013). On writing well. Harper Paperbacks.
*****
Reviewed By
Mayukh Mukhopadhyay
Executive Doctoral Scholar
Indian Institute of Management Indore
*****