Chile’s Triumph, America’s Exhaustion

In Chile, the collective mood is one of hard-earned triumph, after the successful rescue of the 33 miners.

  

The leader of the trapped Chilean miners, Luis Urzúa,
seconds after emerging from their two-month ordeal.

There was of course joy and jubilation when the miners were pulled out after their two-month ordeal underground. I wasn’t watching the news at the time, but I knew the precise moment when the first miner was pulled out alive: Passing cars started loudly honking their horns—Tat–tat–ta-ta-tat!! Tat–tat–ta-ta-tat!! Tat–tat–ta-ta-tat!! 

  

But in the nearly two weeks since the rescue, there has been a collective afterglow in Chile: Everyone feels happy. Everyone feels confident. Everyone feels as if any and every problem—no matter how big—can be taken in hand, and solved successfully. 

  

There is none of that feeling in the United States. 

Americans were glued to their television sets, watching the rescue of the Chilean miners. It was all day, every day—24/7 coverage that got to be a little tedious. But Americans couldn’t seem to get enough of it—on and on and on, the coverage never seemed to stop. 

  

A few Chileans—a small but not insignificant minority—got irritated by the American television coverage: They got irritated by a certain American attitude they sensed in the coverage—an American arrogance. 
  
“It’s like these gringos think that they saved the miners,” a close friend of mine told me here in Santiago. “Like us poor little Chileans couldn’t have rescued the miners on our own—as if we needed the gringos to do it. But we didn’t need the gringos. It was Chilean workers, Chilean engineers, Chilean plans that made the rescue happen—not the gringos.” 

  

“Yeah,” said another friend. “What did the gringos bring, aside from television crews and talking heads? Gringos never respect anyone else’s achievements—they always try to make it about themselves.” 

  

This wasn’t the prevalent thinking in Chile—but it wasn’t an insignificant minority, either. And I couldn’t refute my friends, because they were right—
  
—but at the same time, I could understand why Americans wanted to latch on to this amazing story:

  

Americans just want to feel a little bit of triumph, a little bit of joy. 

  

The problem with Americans isn’t that they’re trying to hog the credit: It’s that Americans feel as if their country is a failure—they just want to share in a little bit of that wonderful feeling. 

  

The glow that comes after an undisputed success. 

  

The United States hasn’t felt success in a long, long time—at least a decade. Ever since 9/11, Americans have been living in a state of constant panic—constant fear—an irrational fear egged on by the leadership classes. 

  

This constant state of panic has led Americans to create a police-state, where the police is there not to serve the citizenry, but to keep them in line. 

  

This constant state of panic has led Americans into two pointless, endless wars, where “victory” is impossible—because there’s nothing to be won. 

  

This constant state of panic has led Americans to be afraid of anything and everything—no matter how trivial and innocuous—and turned the American people into a timid, docile, frightened lot. 

  

This constant state of panic has exhausted America. 

  

First 9/11 and the pointless, endless Global War On Terror. Then the Global Financial Crisis in 2008—then more financial bad news—unemployment—downsizing—then another financial crisis with the Mortgage Mess: Constant never-ending crises! Never a moment’s rest! 

  

And throughout these crises, throughout these years of wailing sirens and flashing red lights, there’s the sense—inarticulate, but ever-present—that the American people are being played for fools: 

  

Played for fools by the banksters, with their multi-billion dollar bonuses, paid for courtesy of the U.S. government that bailed them out—and not a one of them going to jail for what they did. 

  

Played for fools by the politicians, who promise hope and change, but deliver more of the same—because they are the same: Peons of the lobbyists, suck-ups to their corporate masters. 

  

Played for fools by the corporations, who sell foods that are unhealthy, plastics that are unhealthy, communications gadgets which are unhealthy—then lie and say, “They’re harmless!”, even as they settle lawsuits whose conditions are that they do not admit to wrongdoing, or accept responsibility. 

  

Played for fools by the security apparatus, growing like a cancer on the body politic, which periodically issues vague and pointless warnings—“Danger! Danger!—A terrorist-threat alert for all of Europe!”—a security apparatus which has become more threatening—even more dangerous—than the terrorism it is supposed to prevent. 

  

Played for fools by the generals, who claim that this new strategy will bring about victory—a strategy which, after tens of thousands of more soldiers, and hundreds of billions of dollars for the military contractors, fails like all the other strategies. 

  

Played for fools by the doctors and hospitals and insurance companies, who don’t so much heal Americans’ injuries and cure their diseases, but rather suck them dry like leeches of old—only they don’t drain them of blood, but of money. 

  

Played for fools by their fellow citizens, as everyone seems hell-bent on trying to screw over his neighbor, whatever the costs, whatever the consequences. 

  

The mantra of the last decade in America has been buy!-buy!-buy your way to happiness!—as if mere things could fill a life with joy and purpose. No wonder something like half the population of the United States is morbidly obese, while the other half smokes as much ganja as they can get their hands on: They eat and get stoned so as to numb the mind, dull the pain—get some rest. 

  

The people of the United States are exhausted. Fatigued. Burned out. No más, no más, as Roberto Durán said: No more. No more. 

  

The trapped Chilean miners—as historical events go—was trivial: It’s nowhere near as important as, say, the upcoming QE2, or the Currency War, or the looming crash in America’s debt. 

  

But for the little bit of time that America’s attention was so single-mindedly focussed on the trapped Chilean miners, the American people could pretend that they were saving the miners. 

  

For a little while, they could pretend that America’s leadership was responsible and serious in the face of a crisis—not incompetent and ridiculous, as they proved to be after Katrina, and during the BP Oil Spill disaster. 

  

They could pretend that America’s engineers and workers solved this difficult problem—with no excuses, no second guesses, no failed plans. 

  

They could pretend that America was basking in the warm comforting glow of confident success. 

  

As they were digging out the trapped miners, a Chilean mining engineer said at one point, “We’re prepared: We’ve got three rescue plans going on at the same time—and each of those efforts has a back-up. And each of those back-ups has a back-up! So one way or another, we’re going to pull our fellow countrymen out of there alive.” 

  

That’s what America needs—that’s what America yearns for: Someone to pull them out of their hole, something that will bring them back up to the surface—alive and beaming with joy, a clenched fist triumphantly punching the black night sky.