The stories that fascinate us
Eight years ago, many millions of people in this country and elsewhere held their breath for 69 days. Trapped 700 metres underground in a part of Chile we will probably never visit were 33 miners we will likely never meet. But we were fascinated with the incredible effort, first to find and contact them, and second to pull them up and back into the light. As each man was brought to the surface in a specially made capsule, partly funded by donations from around the world, a billion anxious souls let out a sigh of relief. There was a similar, if perhaps not quite so dramatic, release of tension as we learned that 12 boys and their football coach had been found alive and well after 10 days trapped in a Thailand cave. We hope that all of them will soon be back with their families. We understand the near-primal interest in stories about people lost underground, separated from humanity by hundreds of metres of cold, dark, ancient rock. It’s something that speaks to the vulnerabilities in all of us. A vulnerability that is possibly even more exposed as climate change continues to undermine our perceived superiority over mother nature. But what does this special fascination for the fate of a few say about our own, human nature? In a world where tragedy is writ on a much larger scale. Every day. It is to our credit that tales of survival, involving people so far away, engage us in such a way. Momentarily, at least, it is a reminder of our humanity and compassion for the human struggle, no matter what its colour or country. But it’s worth pondering whether it sometimes obscures or undermines our understanding of, or interest in, the wider chaos and calamity. In sometimes choosing to look the wrong way through the telescope, are we missing the bigger picture? Have we become the kea distracted by the shiny object of novel misery before moving on to the next trinket of tragedy? Stories of the lucky few pulled from the rubble created by the latest earthquake can be more compelling than the wider story of shoddy design and building that played a key role in hundreds of others’ demise. A dairy owner fighting off a would-be robber with a hockey stick is considered more interesting than the wider issue of violence and intimidation inflicted in hundreds of stores around the country every year. We are always seeking a tidier narrative, a simpler story of struggle and hopefully success, rather than the messier, more complex truth. Like most things in life, it is simply easier to deal with and understand. It’s worth remembering what happened eight years ago in Chile, long after the men emerged from 700 metres underground into the arms of their overjoyed families. And only weeks before our own mining tragedy claimed 29 men at Pike River. We moved on to the next interesting story, in some exotic and possibly soon-to-be-forgotten part of the world. The cameras went with us, as did the scrutiny of one of the most dangerous industries in the world. There were investigations and lawsuits into the safety of a mine that had claimed eight lives before that 2010 near-tragedy. The case was closed in 2013 with no charges filed.
Stories about people lost underground, separated from humanity by hundreds of metres of cold, dark, ancient rock, speak to the vulnerabilities in all of us.