Something must be terribly wrong with normality. It’s just too… well, normal. So we invariably have to doll it up until it sounds more exciting and improbable than it really is. By which time, of course, it also ceases to bear any resemblance to reality.
OK, let me explain. Attentive consumers of local news will no doubt have digested the story of an AFM Bulldog – that is to say, a small two-seater aircraft, not to be confused with the MEPA enforcement officer of the same name – which crash-landed in Dwejra, Gozo, some two weeks ago.
Now, had it been a car crash – something with which most of us are familiar – the story would no doubt have been reported with the usual, time-honoured cliché: “For some reason or other, the driver lost control of his vehicle…”
But because it was a plane, with all the security implications this advanced item of aviation technology invariably raises, “some reason or other” is no longer sufficient as an explanation. Suddenly, the precise reasons for loss of control became important to ascertain.
So everybody and his bulldog had a go at trying to establish exactly what happened. By most accounts, the cause of the accident was a “microburst” – a sudden downward thrust of wind which, in larger passenger jets, causes the “air pocket” sensation which has people like me reaching for the sick bag under the seat. The Bulldog was therefore thrust downwards by the force of wind at a greater speed than it could regain quota… which is a highly technical way of saying that the force of gravity, as it tends to do on these mercifully infrequent occasions, worked exactly the same way as it has always done everywhere else.
It seems that the first part of the plane to make contact with the ground was the right wing. As a result, the plane performed a “cartwheel”… or, as Archimedes would have put it, its wing temporarily served the same purpose as a fulcrum, upon which the rest of the plane was levered, nose over tail, by its own momentum. When the wreckage came to its final resting place, it turned out that both its crewmembers were not only alive, but almost completely unhurt. I think most would agree that they were remarkably lucky, and that the incident could have had far more serious consequences than it actually did.
So much for the story. What intrigued me was the headline under which it was reported by one particular newspaper, which I will not name for all the usual cowardly reasons (oh, stuff it: it was The Times): “SAVED BY A MIRACLE.”
Excuse me, but… that’s a miracle? Oh all right, I know it’s just a popular colloquialism, along the same lines as “throwing an apoplectic fit” (when one really means “getting mildly cross”); or “laughing one’s ass off” (even though we all know that “one’s ass” remains exactly where it is, no matter how hard one laughs…) But there was nothing even remotely inexplicable in the behaviour of that small aircraft under those circumstances. Nothing at all.
Still, this didn’t stop some people from trying to find evidence of the paranormal in the wreckage. For instance, the same article observed that the pilots had been drenched in fuel in the course of the accident. Incredibly, this highly dangerous state of affairs did not add up to a ghastly accident involving immolation and death. But then again, why would it? If the fuel was not exposed to a spark or naked flame, then it had no conceivable reason to ignite. (Although I can already see the Fantozzi version of the same incident, in which one of the pilots, dazed but unhurt, heaves a sigh of relief as he reaches for the cigarette packet in his breast pocket…)
It was also observed how the plane lost momentum as a result of its spinning cartwheel trajectory: a fact which contributed to the pilots’ deliverance. Yes, I suppose it would. It’s called “friction”, caused by air resistance, as well as (in this case) contact with the ground… and as any Space Shuttle crew member would inform you, it has this remarkably consistent effect of slowing you down. Aviation experts later observed that – Oh, never mind. I think the point has been made. There was nothing even remotely miraculous about the fact that the two pilots survived relatively unscathed. Granted, they themselves felt lucky to be alive, and can be forgiven for (colloquially) using the word “miracle” to describe their good fortune. But let’s be honest… if it wasn’t for a certain recent incident involving a shoe-lace, a glove and a corpse re-exhumed after 40 years burial… would we even be discussing the issue to begin with?
Just when you think it’s safe to read the papers again, what happens? Why, Santa Marija comes rolling along, like she does every year (on the same day, too: 15 August. How’s that for a coincidence?)
Another newspaper this time – The Malta Independent – paused to take stock of this momentous occasion. Headline? “THE MIRACLE OF SANTA MARIJA”.
What followed was an absorbing, well-written and generally very commendable article describing the last few days of the USS Ohio – that wonderful American oil tanker, without which we would all be singing ‘Uber Alles’ instead of ‘Lil Din L-Art Helwa’ – before limping into the Grand Harbour 65 years ago.
Yes, indeed. It was an astonishing accomplishment by any standards, and to be perfectly honest I think it would make a devastating war movie… far better that the siege of 1565, which was nowhere near as dramatic… but there remains a tiny, niggling snag.
There was no “miracle” involved.
In fact, I suspect that the surviving veterans of Operation Pedestal may well feel aggrieved by the suggestion. After all, the ship survived its ordeal largely through their own superhuman efforts, which would inevitably be cheapened by any future “Divine Intervention” interpretation. But sadly, where the heroes who steered the ship into harbour 65 years ago were rightly honoured for their bravery, many people today prefer ascribing the salvage operation to Our Lady instead. Ah, well.
What really happened was (roughly) this: in the course of the passage from Gibraltar, the Ohio was variously hit by bombs, more bombs, torpedoes and even the occasional flaming aircraft which crashed directly onto her deck. Incredibly, she remained afloat throughout all this, despite the fact that she was carrying a cargo of highly flammable aviation spirit (more of this important detail later). She was abandoned, reboarded, and even managed to negotiate a mine field before succeeding against all expectations to deliver her invaluable cargo to Malta. Admittedly, other ships were less lucky: nine other merchant navy vessels were sunk, as was one aircraft carrier, a number of destroyers, etc. But still, we are dealing with a feat which appears at a glance to defy all probability.
All very good ingredients for the miraculous, but one vital piece is still missing in action. None of the above is itself inexplicable. For instance: the fact that the highly flammable cargo did not explode is entirely analogous to the strange case of the crashlanded Bulldog in Dwejra. The ship might have caught fire several times, but – with the exception of the time when she temporarily abandoned – there were always hands on deck to extinguish the flames. Besides, the hull itself may have been ripped apart, but the cargo hold was not directly penetrated, so at no point were its contents exposed to any naked flame.
Admittedly, Ohio’s stubbornness in refusing to sink does at a glance give the impression of some form of defiance of the laws of physics. One would think a ship with its bottom virtually ripped off would sink like a stone: consider for instance the Titanic, or more recently (and more dramatically) the MV Rozi off Cirkewwa. In the end, all that was left of the Ohio was practically the shell of a ship. Even her chief engineer, Jimmy Wyld, is reported to have observed: “Look at that freeboard… I can’t think how she stays afloat.”
But the explanation is actually very simple: the Ohio’s cargo-hold was full of aviation spirit – which is a good deal less dense than the surrounding seawater. The ship was therefore kept from sinking by the same principle that keeps an iceberg afloat: nothing more miraculous than good old Archimedes’ principle.
Interestingly enough, the question of “Divine Intervention” in the Ohio incident was raised in a BBC documentary on Operation Pedestal, made on the occasion of its 50th anniversary. Among the interviewees was President Emeritus Vincent Tabone, in his multiple capacity as incumbent president, World War II vet, and generally all-round nice guy par excellence. His take on the Santa Marija convoy, and its significance within a religious context, was as memorable as it was succinct: “The Maltese have always had a special devotion to Our Lady,” (Dr Tabone told the BBC reporter) “and when the ship came into harbour on the feast of Santa Marija, it was taken as a sign that their prayers had been answered.”
Ah, now we’re talking. “Answers to prayers” are only “miraculous” if the prayed-for item is something technically impossible or inexplicable by scientific means. For instance: prayed-for recoveries from terminal illnesses, especially in cases where no scientific explanation can account for the recovery, can reasonably be passed off as “miracles”… although it is always debatable whether the miracle was actually occasioned by the prayers themselves.
On the other hand, the prayed-for arrival of a ship which was planning to come here all along – no matter how many Junkers 87 Stukas had been assigned for the purpose of stopping her – is not a “miracle” by any definition of the word.
The above interpretation, by the way, comes from a man who no doubt believes most fervently in miracles. It seems, therefore, that the generation which experienced Operation Pedestal first-hand, also instinctively understood what our generation appears to consistently get wrong: the very fine distinction between a remarkable coincidence on one hand, and a manifestation of the praeternatural on the other.
Ironically, Our Lady herself is likely to be the biggest loser in the above transaction. For by exalting coincidences to the status of “miracle”, you will ultimately only devalue the notion of a “real” miracle to begin with… if, indeed, any such thing even exists.
