Everybody loves a good rescue.
The world celebrated with Chile last week as all thirty-three of the miners who were trapped thousands of feet underground by a cave-in on August 5th were whisked to the surface, one by one, in a custom-made capsule appropriately named “Phoenix,” after the mythical bird that rises from its own ashes.
The weeks immediately following the cave-in had seemed ashen indeed. At first, there was no sign that the miners were alive. The country rejoiced at the first missive from the depths, which indicated that all thirty-three had survived. President Sebastián Piñera made the rescue a national priority, drawing from the world’s drilling resources. Two Pennsylvania companies, Schramm, Inc. of West Chester, and Center Rock, Inc. of Berlin, proudly contributed drilling equipment to the effort, and won international bragging rights when their relief well, nicknamed “Plan B,” was the first to reach the trapped miners.
No expense was spared to ensure the physical and psychological health of the men, who enjoyed such amenities as live televised soccer games and daily videoconferences with physicians, thanks to a fiber optic cable that was threaded down to their underground chamber. Food and medicine were delivered down to them as well, along with other materials to promote their health and relieve their boredom.
An orderly schedule of work and sleep was established, with some consulting help from NASA. The men actively participated in preparations for their rescue. They dug wells for drinking water. They exercised. They were briefed on their new status as media celebrities, and given advice on handling the stress of interviews. Not to mention the stress of returning to their old lives on the surface.
Everything that could be done for them was done, and when they emerged, healthy, if thin and pale, in their patriotic overalls and their Oakley sunglasses, the world experienced a rare moment of catharsis: if we can resurrect men buried for months under half a mile of volcanic rock, what can’t we do?
There were the inevitable comparisons to other great rescues. Apollo 13 came to mind. In the case of the rescue of those three astronauts, somehow, the world was able to imagine what it was like to be stranded in a broken metal capsule in outer space, the earth a distant blur through a frosted window.
Just so, it didn’t take much imagination to project ourselves down into that Chilean mine in the early days of the catastrophe, a place hellish in its darkness, heat, and humidity. To be buried alive is one of the primal fears of mankind. To be rescued from that fate is cause for a great outpouring.
Surely if we were one of those miners, we would have hoped for nothing less than the nation’s wealth and ingenuity to be mobilized on our behalf. Chile’s government is to be praised for its swift and energetic response. The nations of the world who gave so generously of their expertise are to be praised. The workers who devised and carefully executed the rescue are to be praised.
And yet.
There are a few things to remember as the euphoria dies down and the miners begin to adjust to normal life. First and foremost, this was an industrial accident. These men were not astronauts. They were workers. Their workplace may be more dangerous than most, but it remains to be seen whether the owners and managers of the mine treated safety as a top priority.
Some may look at this rescue and call it an effective use of government. Which is certainly true, from the point of view of expediting the logistics. But one can’t help but notice some of the details – the huge media pavilion at the rescue site; the miner’s public relations coaching; the elaborate presidential choreography – that point to the political nature of the rescue. In other words, the elevation of an industrial rescue to the status of national drama.
The Chilean president seized this moment for many reasons. First and foremost, it was the right thing to do on behalf of the trapped miners. Aside from that, it was the right thing to do to boost his image – and, for that matter, Chile’s image, which still suffers abroad from the taint of past human rights abuses.
I would just like to note that governance is a big job, a job undertaken on behalf of millions, or hundreds of millions, of citizens, not just thirty-three at a time. Life-or-death rescues are exciting and dramatic and, when they go as well as the one in Chile, simply breathtaking.
But a quiet bureaucrat in a florescent cubicle who fights, year after year, for better healthcare on behalf of all of the people of her nation, is every bit as much a hero as those mine-rescuers. Her work may affect 330 million, not just thirty-three. Even though she may not get her moment in the glare of a delirious spotlight, her faithful service adds a bit of light to the sum of light.
Everyone loves a good rescue. But few have the privilege of being married to a rescuer.
I just happen to be one of the lucky ones.
This column was published in the Perry Co Times on 21 October 2010
For more information, please contact Mr. Olshan at writing@matthewolshan.com
