Miners Rescued from Chilean Pit

Sometimes, disasters turn into miracles. That's largely due to human efforts above and beyond expectations. Today's rescue of 32 Chilean and one Bolivian miner from a copper mine in the Atacama Desert (men who have spent 10 weeks underground following a mine collapse) is such a case. While no doubt criminal negligence and greed led to their entombment, each and every survivor who is coming up in that capsule is a testament to what human beings can get right.

First of all, there is the human will to survive. When the mine collapsed 70 days ago, 33 men had not been crushed by falling rock. However, there was no way to walk out, no elevator to rescue them. Their mission became staying alive long enough to be found. For 17 days, they lived on two spoonfuls of canned tuna, a sip or two of milk, and a biscuit either daily or every other day (accounts vary).

The great event took place on August 22, when a probe from above actually found the men who had found sanctuary in a chamber smaller than a townhouse in a decent sized city. A note come up the thin hole that had been drilled, "Estamos bien en el refugio los 33," which weakly translated is "all of us are well inside the shelter, signed the 33". From then on, Chile had its Apollo 13 mission, to bring them back alive. Chile has proved itself to be a truly great nation.

The efforts at those above ground at Camp Esperanza (Camp Hope) have been state-of-the-art mining engineering in action. A team from the US took on the drilling for Plan B (three different approaches had been used to maximize the chances of success), the hole that broke through first and through which the miners will depart. They arrived 33 days before they broke through; there are 33 miners. Some put it down to God, some to the demands of the laws of probability. The science of drilling through rock probably helped.

The true heroes here, and by that one means those who proved humans capable of amazing efforts at self-control and altruism, are the 33. The only word that fits is "solidarity." It means a bit more in French (solidarite) or Spanish (solidaridad) than it does in English, but if one ever questioned its value, consider the Polish term "Solidarnosc," defeater of the Communists. When the drill broke through, the men began to argue not over who would leave first, but who would leave last (that honor will go to shift foreman Luis Urzua - -the man who organized the stranded miners). Above ground, this has been mirrored by their families; when a loved one has been brought up, there has been the tearful joyous reunion. Then, when the miner goes off to visit the doctors, the family doesn't go home. They go back to the mine to await the next arrival. That is solidarity. Those lucky enough to know miners will realize that is applies from Chile, to West Virginia to South Yorkshire to the Don Basin to South Africa to Australia.

There will be movie offers and book deals, and if there is a better story about human cussedness in the face of doom, one has yet to read it. But before the world goes on its path to making these men rock stars, the last words go to the second man out, Mario Sepulveda. He told the press, "The only thing I'll ask of you is that you don't treat me as an artist or a journalist, but as a miner," he said. "I was born a miner and I'll die a miner." This journal has no doubt that he will die a miner, just not today.

© Copyright 2010 by The Kensington Review, Jeff Myhre, PhD, Editor. No part of this publication may be reproduced without written consent. Produced using Ubuntu Linux.

Kensington Review Home