John Roughan: Heroism was beyond hope

The company man Peter Whittall (right) shone in the line-up of those facing the public, including Superintendent Gary Knowles. Photo / Mark Mitchell

One of the most beautiful experiences available in this life is to be in Cardiff's National Stadium as a Welsh crowd gives full voice to their anthem. When they do it early tomorrow the poignancy may be unbearable.

The All Blacks will be wearing white arm bands. The stadium will observe a minute of silence. The New Zealand anthem is funereal at the best of times; Land of our Fathers will follow.

Coal mining is, or was, a Welsh way of life. When the hymns have been sung, I don't know how anyone is going to play rugby.

Death brings people together. The mine boss was visibly at one with his workers this week in the horror and helplessness and the grief. Parliament suspended its arguments, the whole country, and it seemed the whole world, waited with the West Coast.

Together we learned things about heroism, realism, the mining of coal and the limits of modernity. We had supposed technology had made everything safe. Even war can be waged with very low casualties now for the side that can afford the right equipment.

Safety has become our highest value. "Paramount" is the word for it. Safety is "the first consideration" in every workplace policy statement.

Public health campaigns urge safe drinking, safe parenting, safe sex. Even knowledge, words and opinions need to be "safe".

But we had not realised it extended to emergency services. We discovered we have an agency called New Zealand Mines Rescue but we still don't know what it does.

It certainly doesn't rush into coal mines after an explosion. Day after day we were told how dangerous that could be for the rescuers and on the sixth day they were right.

The mine was a bomb, self-loading from a methane leak, that could explode at any time.

It would be like asking NZ Mines Rescue to defuse a live shell or pull someone from a burning car when flames might be licking the fuel tank.

I wonder what would have happened if there had been some sign or sound from the mine of people in distress. I think, though I'm far from sure, that rescuers would have gone in.

Heroism probably involves an instant calculation of known risk against likely benefit.

The better the prospect that somebody might be saved, the braver we might be.

If somebody is trapped and calling from the burning car we would be more likely to rush to the rescue. If the car has exploded with people inside we would probably hang back; the low possibility that any could be saved would not be worth the risk.

I hope that is what happened at Pike River. They may have known the likelihood of anyone surviving the heat and force of methane combustion was so low that it was not worth anyone walking "down the barrel of a gun", as they described it.

But if they knew that, why did they maintain our hope for so long?

Police Superintendent Gary Knowles became quite cross if a questioner presumed the worst.

That may have been because he had to face the families every day, but they were miners' families. They probably knew better than the rest of us that underground coal mine explosions take a high toll wherever in the world they happen.

More likely, the combination of optimism and inaction in the daily briefings was simply a case of operating by the book.

When the Tasman District Police Commander lined up with the manager of NZ Mines Rescue and Pike River Coal's chief executive, who would have the imagined, in the circumstances, the company man could shine?

Peter Whittall was candid, caring and constantly informative. Superintendent Knowles and Mines Rescue's Trevor Watts gave us official-speak.

Mr Watts was last seen explaining that a mine emergency should not be compared to a building fire. A building, he said, produced a "structured fire" with a window or door for access not far away, whereas mine rescuers would have to operate underground three or four kilometres from their point of safety.

Then he said he was busy and couldn't wait for questions, not that news gatherers would have had any.

Perhaps he thought the World Trade Centre was in the public mind and we were comparing his operation unfavourably with New York's finest, which somebody eventually did.

The fire fighters who went into the World Trade Centre lacked the first element of the heroic calculation, known risk. They had no reason to think the burning towers could collapse. But America needed heroes.

As we waited for heroes this week we needed to realise that nobody was trapped in the mine, nobody was in the air pocket, nobody tapping on a rock.

There was just a miner's helmet with a light still alive.