Until recently you might have been forgiven for thinking that the only thing one needed to know about Chile was to be found on a wine list. Few people could have named Sebastián Piñera as the country’s President, let alone tell you that he is the first avowedly right-wing incumbent since the General Pinochet. It is said that every cloud has a silver lining. For ‘Los 33′ the reward is tangible, but Piñera himself, on a recent tour of Europe, has been un-bashful about the resounding effectiveness of the miners’ story as a PR coup for the country as a whole.
Since entering office in March, President Piñera has been trying to balance embracing the wave of nationalism sparked by this year’s events with carefully distancing the coalition’s connections to the Pinochet regime. He has hailed solidarity and burden-sharing as central to his approach since the wave of destruction followed February’s earthquake, and the miners’ 69 days underground have further cemented Chilean determination to take these goals to heart. The evidence is visible along the entire 7833 mile length of the country.
“Men wander the streets wearing 33 matching pairs of Oakley sunglasses to protect their now light-sensitive eyes”
In Santiago’s financial district, over the two months since 33 workers were discovered alive nearly 700 metres below the ground, businessmen have become accustomed to signing off emails with the slogan ‘Fuerza mineros’. In Copiapó, the nearby mining town, strangers showed their concern with generous donations of firewood, groceries, and fresh fish delivered to the campsite at the mouth of the San José mine, where families, press, government officials, and all manner of well-wishers awaited the rescue.
By the time Luis Urzua, the leader of ‘Los 33’ and the last one to emerge, had reached the surface, the congregation at ‘Camp Hope’ had swelled to include over 2000 press, providing 31 hours of rolling news, not just in Chile, but on Spanish, German and French news channels, to name but a few. In Santiago, each miner’s emergence was greeted by a cacophony of honking horns, cheers, applause and tolling bells, strangers embracing in the street in spontaneous celebration.
In the capital the Chilean flag is still ubiquitous; were I in England, I would assume the world cup was looming. Signs bearing the slogan ‘Miners, welcome to the light’ now adorn front doors, and children’s homemade cards wishing them well are posted outside nurseries and primary schools. Ballads are already being sung on Santiago’s buses, hailing the rescued miners as national heroes, accompanied by the frenzied strumming of a Chilean guitar.
For the miners themselves, their sudden celebrity status is an ordeal of an entirely different kind. During their first minutes under the hot desert sun for over two months, the world followed their every movement. The public is familiar with the details of their past and family lives in a way that would have been inconceivable a mere two months ago. World famous football clubs invite them to watch international games, designer cars fight to ferry their families around, and the men wander the streets wearing 33 matching pairs of Oakley sunglasses to protect their now light-sensitive eyes.
Yet you would hardly know to look at them. I sit in a Santiago garden, listening to crackling of a barbecue and bilingual chit-chat. The house belongs to the journalist who has already written the first chapter of a book about the miners’ ordeal, to be published in nine different countries. Amongst the guests are scattered journalists, media personalities and women whose faces are immediately recognisable from television footage that has consistently made headlines over the past weeks.
‘Super’ Mario Sepúlveda, who emerged triumphant from the mine last week, has brought his wife and daughter to Santiago. The family, whom international daily newspapers pay $100,000s for an interview, sit quietly smoking and eating ‘choripan’, Chile’s classier take on a hot-dog, outwardly indistinguishable from any other guest. An entirely ordinary family from Chile’s rural north suddenly catapulted to the top
of the nation’s celebrity list.
The word on everybody’s lips here is ‘miracle’. All of Chile is acutely aware that what could have been 2010’s second national tragedy has been transformed into a nation-wide celebration, and not just because the 33 men have emerged in remarkably good health – Piñera himself has additional cause to celebrate.
“Having escaped its clutches one final time, their anger has mounted”
With their president prominently positioned at the forefront of the action at ‘Camp Hope’, Chile’s public opinion towards the government has softened. With the discovery that the miners had survived underground for 17 days, the scale of the PR opportunity for Piñera was immediately apparent. With the rescue successfully completed, Piñera is riding on the back of the media frenzy, significantly delivering his speech at the mouth of the mine in both English and Spanish. He was present throughout the rescue, and was still able to complete what has been called his ‘victory tour’ of Europe during the aftermath.
On his state visit to Britain this week, gifts of San José rocks for David Cameron and the Queen were not the only things Piñera brought with him. He brought the message that Chile, now more than ever, “works with unity, with faith, with hope”, and is “stronger” as a result of the rescue.
That the rescue has created a more united, and an emotionally stronger, Chile is perhaps true. Yet if Piñera can achieve a mining industry that is not only stronger, but, more importantly, safer, there will be yet another cause for celebration. Within the mining community the San José mine was notoriously dangerous; it speaks volumes that San Esteban, the company owning the collapsed mine, paid salaries significantly higher than the average, encouraging workers to overlook a string of serious injuries resulting from poor working conditions.
Two months ago miners may have turned a blind eye to the risks associated with working in San José; now, having escaped its clutches one final time, their anger has mounted. The scene at the mouth of the mine the day after their rescue was one of sheer fury, as the strongest of the recent captives flung rocks and shouted curses down the mine, finally unleashing their frustration, contained within 50 suffocating square metres for so many weeks.
The flaws in the all-important Chilean mining industry cannot now be ignored. A tragedy has been averted, called a miracle instead. If this crisis paves the way for both a safer and a more lucrative mining industry, Chile may yet celebrate the end of their bicentennial year unmarred by further national disaster, and with the knowledge that they emerge into 2011 as an international emblem of unity.
