The dramatic story of 33 trapped Chilean miners captivated the world for more than two months in the summer of 2010, but Dante himself could not have conjured a ring of hell like the one British journalist Franklin describes in his fascinating account of the miners' ordeal.Sealed a half-mile underground after a 700,000-ton piece of earth collapsed at the notoriously unsafe San Jose mine in Copiapo, Chile, the miners endured 17 days in darkness, 90 degree heat and 95% humidity, ingesting just a single spoonful of rationed tuna every two days, and metallic, oil-laden water from an underground tank before rescue workers miraculously made contact. With a narrow shoot in place, through which supplies could be delivered, the next 50 days became a test of human endurance unparalleled in modern history. Physically, the men endured only minor ailments: an infected tooth, fungal infections caused by the subterranean environment, but, overall, they stayed remarkably healthy in a situation where even a mild case of diarrhea could have proven fatal. Their psychological health, however, was more tenuous. After rallying around a leader, miner Mario Sepulveda, petty jealousies, stress, tension and boredom set in, all while the fragile mine constantly creaked and shattered around them, a Sword of Damocles that seemed poised to crush the men at any moment. In the first days of their ordeal, the men initially formed something of a democracy, a work schedule and a meritocracy that gave them purpose, and unity. But as supplies began to flow into the mine—including television, letters, and eventually, contraband, like marijuana—those bonds began to fray. Their hell was exacerbated by the efforts of a government psychologist, Alberto Iturra, who treated the miners like subjects in a Skinner Box, frequently drawing the men’s ire by censoring their mail, and insisting on daily evaluations. At one point, doctors contemplated sending the men inflatable sex dolls to relieve their tension. Reason prevailed, however, and the men had to settle for pornography. Above ground, tensions also ran high, and Franklin’s brisk narrative captures the turmoil that simmered in “Camp Hope,” the makeshift tent city where the miner’s families, rescue workers, and the press had camped, and the site of a full-blown media circus, as well as the intense pressure on the Peruvian government, led by President Pinera, just months after a devastating earthquake had ravaged the country. Stories of innovation, bravery, and good decisions are also abundant, however, in Franklin's admirably unsentimental account. Perhaps the best decision, was Pinera's call to authorize three separate rescue efforts, a decision that kicked off a good-natured race among rescue crews, and guarded against an eggs-in-one-basket failure. That strategy paid off against long odds: an American-led team with an ingenious pneumatic drill reached the miners almost a month faster than initially projected, on day 67. The miners ascended a day later, one-by-one, clad in Oakley sunglasses, a most improbable happy ending, and a rare, uplifting moment, Franklin observes, in a decade marred by global terror, famine, genocide, earthquakes, tsunamis and floods. “By August, 2010, the world seemed starved of hope,” Franklin writes, “but the bravery of 33 men and a band of generous and tenacious rescue workers brought the world together.” -By Andrew Richard Albanese The 24/7 coverage may make you think you already know the miners' story—but, you don’t, and this fast-moving, yet in-depth account is a testament to the enduring value of good, old-fashioned journalism—and, of course, a great story. It could easily have been different, of course. The situation could have ended quickly, in tragedy, or, worse, with an underground version of Lord of the Flies. Instead, the story of “Los 33” stands as a historic triumph of the human spirit. By Andrew Richard Albanese
