Jim Hopkins: Armchair heroes quick to call for daring from others

The decision on whether it was safe for rescuers to go into the mine was always best left to experts. Photo / Mark Mitchell

Daring, (n). One of the most conspicuous qualities of a man in security.

We've all got a map in our heads, an atlas of options, a chart of experience.

It isn't exact, this map, it doesn't show precise locations, but we do rely on it nonetheless, just as the unlocated rely on those newfangled GPS thingamabobs - the perfect Christmas gift for people who don't know where they're going.

Which is pretty much all of us, if we're honest. The future is a place we haven't been yet.

And that's why we've got this map in our heads; less GPS, more EPS, it's our Experience Positioning System and we use if we're lost in the badlands. Or when the fog rolls in or any time our prospects look blurred or bleak and we're not sure what to do next.

Our map's dotted with oddly named places we've already visited - RememberWhatHappenedLastTime, IPunchedHimontheNose, ItMadeHerSad, and IfIDoThatWillItBiteMeInTheBumAgain.

But our maps show more than the coastline of our doings. They chart influences too, all the other bits and pieces of received wisdom, clichés, truisms, songs and such, that influence our navigation.

So there's plenty of maxims and aphorisms on our map of options. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, for example. Fortune favours the brave, In for a penny, in for a pound. They're all there, in the Gritandpluck Province, alongside When the going gets tough, the tough get going and Who dares, wins.

But just next door, in the Hangonaminute Zone, we find other old phrases, also expressing some valuable truth. And they too are stained and smudged and worn with use because they've been so often used and often useful.

Look before you leap, Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, Act in haste, repent at leisure.

And since the map in our heads is a work in progress, there's always room for new locations. So, if it's not there already, and it probably isn't, add the words at the top of this column to your charts: Daring, (n). One of the most conspicuous qualities of a man in security.

They were written almost a century ago by Ambrose Bierce, a man scarce remembered now and come from his book The Devil's Dictionary - a copy of which this Christmas will give you much better guidance than any satnav system known to humankind.

Bierce was a man driven to explore the dark places most people prefer never to visit. The quickest of flicks through the dictionary will prove that: Absurdity, (n). A statement of belief manifestly inconsistent with one's own opinion.

Accountability, (n). The mother of caution.

Coward, (n). One who in a perilous emergency thinks with his legs.

But his definition of 'daring' has particular resonance now. There's been a great deal of daring evidenced by many in security over the last two weeks.

In print, on screen, and on the wireless, a host of map readers have told us exactly what they would do and precisely what should be done and, even more precisely, what should not be done by those waiting outside the Pike River mine.

It's been - and still is - the opinion of these armchair heroes that it was wrong to wait, then wait again, and wrong to continually reiterate risk. "Risk?" they said. "There's always risk. But fortune favours the brave. Who dares, wins. And who doesn't is a wimp."

That's easy to say when you're not the person who has to make the life and death decisions. But the armchair heroes are right about one thing.

There is risk. There's always risk. Risk is our shadow. Life is risk. Every breath we take is a risk. But some risks are greater than others. That's where our maps come in.

When the Australasian Institute of Mining and Metallurgy held its annual conference at Auckland University last week, there were a lot of people talking about risk and consulting their maps too. But their maps are more accurate than ours, with details that come from years of experience and a knowledge of risk beyond the imagining of most of us.

The people at that conference knew how little it takes to trigger the gases in a methane mine. Something as casual as your hand brushing the fabric of your overalls can do it, or a soft footfall stirring coal dust on the floor of the shaft. A flick of the wrist, a step on the way, each of those small, simple things - and many more besides - can cause an explosion.

It's easy to say what should have happened at Pike River. It's easy to be gung-ho. And maybe somebody should have been. Then again, maybe not. Maybe fortune would have favoured the brave. Maybe not. Maybe a hand on clothes or a foot on coal would have provoked another blast. Maybe not. Maybe the rescue team would have come out alive. Maybe not. Go. Or no.

But this time you're not watching, you're in charge. The decision's yours. What does your map say now?