Any person who’s ever taken a first year psychology course is probably familiar with the names Kity Genovese and Phineus Gage; the former was supposed to show us how callous and insensitive we can be when we believe others will act, the later gave us insight into how quickly our personalities can change when we traumatize our prefrontal cortex. But more to the point, both were accidental discoveries—the type of events over which researchers reticently salivate— knowing full well their passion for knowledge can easily be misconstrued as schadenfreude.
Economists watch keenly as autocrats drunk on power, wrestle control of the central bank away from the central bankers, usually for their own benefit; epidemiologists gleefully identify cellular mutations in deadly diseases killing the world’s most vulnerable; and psychologists, well they gather on top of a mine in Copiapó, Chile and marvel at each subtle change in the 33 men trapped there.
The scene is brimming with material, figuratively...
There’s Víctor Zamora, who’s been identified as the jokester—sending cards to the surface saying he’s happy to be below so he doesn’t have to wash himself.
There’s President Piñera offering to close the mine and build a shrine, well aware his ratings are said to increase by 10 percent every time the miners show signs of life—and always hopeful, of course, that this future shrine won’t sit on top of a mausoleum.
There’s a religious battle between the Catholics and the Evangelicals—Cardinal Francisco Javier Errázuriz has brought rosaries blessed by the Pope while the Evangelical Minister Carlos Parra has put up with Catholic iconography and Patron saint worship (San Lorenzo) to ensure the men get mini-bibles; the lone Jehovah’s witness seems to have been lost in the mix.
There’s Gustavo Zerbrino—of “Alive” fame—who came to inspire the miners as he did this summer with the Uruguayan team at the World Cup. (I do wonder about the wisdom of sending a man who had to resort to cannibalism to lift the spirits of hungry men inevitably in the company of others weakening by the day.)
But returning again to psychology…
Alberto Iturra, the man responsible for coordinating the team of psychologists helping the miners, has been accused of censoring the letters the men are sending to and receiving from their loved ones—a ridiculous accusation he vehemently denies. Why would he censor letters when they’ve been having videoconference calls?
Jéssica Cortés, a wife of one of the miners, has a theory.
Mrs. Cortés has suggested some of these psychologists in Copiapó might not be who they say they are.
“There are a lot of girls up there calling themselves psychologists, but I haven’t seen any identification…”
I didn’t understand what she was implying at first either... Is there a shady psychologist racket in Chile I didn’t know about?
No.
These faux psychologists are supposedly the men’s lovers, meaning that in Copiapó, Chile, psychologist has become a euphemism for a woman who sleeps with a married man. To the best of my knowledge, none of these men are gay…or at least their psychologists aren’t.
But what am I even talking about?
Somewhere along the line I imagined this awful event into an experiment, a soap opera, or combination of the two. Why the miners are there in the first place has become less important than the melodrama their misfortune has spawned.
Unlike a company such as BP, whose mistake has been--though deservedly— universally vilified, in this case it takes a little bit of effort to even find a name: Compania Minera San Esteban Primera, if you’re wondering. It takes a little more effort if you’re curious about their past: they’ve reportedly lost 16 miners in recent years (Reuters), been fined some forty times for safety violations, and were allowed to reopen this particular mine when they shouldn’t have.
President Piñera—to no-one’s surprise, sacked Alejandro Vio, the top mining regulator in Chile, but will his successor be as closely monitored when the spotlight leaves Copiapo?
I doubt it.
When the circus ends, most people forget.
It was over a month ago that the President promised “profound restructuring” of Sernageomin—the National Mining and Geology Service, but that might just have meant replacing Vio.
Lately there’s been greater focus on whether or not Health Minister Jamie Mañlich did or didn’t promise to get the men wine for the Bicentenary on September 18th.
The men might need it. When they get back to the surface, their shady employer will still be safe, their secrets may not be.
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