Mining is one of the most important economic activities in South
Africa. Due to the inequalities that Apartheid perpetuated, the
distribution of mineral wealth and the unrest within the
labour force have increased. The Mineral and Petroleum
Resources Development Act, 28 of 20021
was an attempt to redress these issues. Misinterpretation of this
Act, amongst others, led to the demand from workers that a living
wage of R12 000 be meted out to them.2
In an attempt to offer an explanation of what happened in August
2012, one must first acknowledge that the Marikana Massacre occurred,
not just because of a wage dispute but because there are many other
factors underpinning the worker’s struggle in South Africa and
these must be explored. There has been a great increase in mining
demands since the Platinum boom in Rustenburg in 1994.3
This has resulted in a further disparity between mining companies and
workers. Whilst mining companies continue to generate copious amounts
of wealth, this happens at the expense of workers who, through
systems of labour brokering, continue to be
divided according to Apartheid-generated categories of separation.
In June 2012, workers at Lonmin in Marikana began organising towards
a system of collective bargaining, demanding a salary adjustment.4
By this time, however, Rock Drill Operators (RDOs) from the same mine
had already started mobilising towards action outside of the
collective bargaining system. These RDOs were militant, to say the
least, and were not willing to enter into a space for negotiation.
Despite this, their employer had decided to begin engagement with
these workers, even though it was outside the formal negotiation
space and by July 2012, these engagements had begun. Unfortunately,
however, this did not solve anything as, at the most crucial point,
Lonmin rescinded their offer to negotiate outside the formal space
and declared that it would only negotiate with the National Union of
Mineworkers. Then, as almost a pre-emptive measure, Lonmin granted a
shift allowance to RDOs. This was done outside the collective
bargaining system and could be seen as a reflection of the “pressure
exerted on it…”5
Again, despite this, workers demanded substantially more than they
were being offered, citing that the amount offered was “inadequate,
arbitrary and irrational”6.
In the following weeks, workers developed strong networks and, at a
meeting of RDOs in August, sans the NUM, it was decided that a more
militant stance would be taken and a march to senior management was
to take place on August 9th 2012.
Chinguno articulated the proceedings of the march accurately in his
work:
The following day on 10 August, workers converged again at the same
venue for their march to management. The management offices were
cordoned off when they arrived. The workers demanded to be addressed
by management and were initially promised this by security personnel.
However, moments later a NUM representative announced to the agitated
crowd that management would only address their demand through NUM as
the recognised union. The workers left dejected and resolved to
reconvene the following morning to map a way forward.7
Workers reconvened the following day with a change in strategy: they
were going to march to the NUM offices and make the intention clear
that they were going to engage directly with their employer, outside
of the formal system of collective bargaining. What is important to
note is that this march proceeded just like any other march in South
Africa, with workers carrying sticks and singing revolutionary songs.
The sticks and knobkerries that were carried were symbolic, in the
sense that, in African culture, a protest is akin to a war and so
people ought to arm themselves. At this juncture of the march,
workers were ambushed by NUM officials who fired live ammunition at
them, reportedly killing two RDOs. Workers then attempted to retreat
and regroup in a nearby stadium, but were denied access by security,
citing that their gathering was illegal. They then retreated to an
elevated piece of state-owned land, adjacent to, but not in close
proximity to the community in which they lived. This was done for a
number of reasons, as a worker explained:
We did not want our community affected by the strike. We did not want
criminals to take advantage of the strike and attack shops. We did
not want the children in the informal settlement to be affected by
the police.8
This was part of the lessons learnt from the Impala strike in which
violent looting and attacks on shops occurred. The next day, workers
marched back to the NUM offices, this time to demand answers into why
their own union attacked them only this time, the workers were armed.
This was done as a reaction to the events of the previous day and to
further protect themselves against violence that may occur on that
day too. Mine security blocked off access to the NUM offices. When
workers attempted to force their way through, they were stopped with
rubber bullets. Workers fought back and subsequently killed two
security guards. This action continued the next day, August 13th
2012, when workers rallied to stop production by subcontracted
workers, having absorbed members of the community and non-Lonmin
workers as well. On their way back to their meeting place (the
koppie, another symbolic structure in African culture as a place
where problems are solved), they were stopped by police who demanded
that they dispose of their weapons. Workers refused, citing that they
would only disarm themselves once they have reported back to their
leaders. A clash ensued, with police opening fire at the crowd.
During this clash, two policemen and two workers were killed.
The Massacre occurred on August 16th 2012. The day before, union
leaders attempted to speak to workers, asking them to retreat and go
back to work. This was done from behind the guard of a security
detail and police vehicles. Workers demanded proof that it was their
union leader representing them but were refused. “The refusal by
the NUM president to get out of the police vehicle when addressing
workers has the symbolic meaning of illustrating the alienation of
the NUM from its membership and its subsequent rejection by them.”9
Avoiding emotive verbosity, different narratives of how the massacre
occurred are presented, but all have the same result - police shot
and killed 44 striking miners.
Since the massacre, there have been a number of civil society
movements who have rallied together in an attempt to show solidarity
with the affected families, as well as demand justice for the killed
miners and an end to the oppressive conditions under which miners in
South Africa work. Citizens 4 Marikana is one such movement. This
movement seeks to act as a link between the public and those present
at the Farlam Commission (the commission set up to investigate the
events of that week) as well as mobilise funds and support to those
affected by the massacre, in particular, making contributions towards
legal representation. What is important to note is that the
commission was formed at the instruction of the president of South
Africa, and was given a mandate by him as a matter of public enquiry.
This commission is a public one, allowing for public viewing of
hearings in which evidence is presented and accounts of the events of
that week given. This speaks, quite broadly to the issue of the
inclusion of civil society movements in commissions such as this one.
The commission does not include members of civil society, nor does it
allow for participation from them. All it does, instead, is allow
civil society to peer into its dealings and report to its subsequent
constituency. Discussions must be formed around issues of
representation on these platforms. Civil society can be said to be
accurate representations of people who are deeply affected by
societal ills yet they aren’t given space on platforms that are in
a position to affect substantial change. Spivak wrote widely on the
fact that in many cases, the sub-altern cannot speak and
representation is often misconstrued to sway in favour of the
privilege. These cases are no exception.
1
Twala.C., “The Marikana Massacre: A Historical Overview of the
Labour Unrest in the Mining Sector in South Africa”, in Southern
African Peace and Security Studies, Vol1, No.2, p.61.
2
Loc cit.
3
Ibid.p.62
4
Chinguno.C., “Marikana and the Post-Apartheid Workplace Order”,
Society, Work and Development Institute Working Paper, April 2013,
p.23.
5
Loc cit.
6
Loc cit.
7
Ibid.p.p.23-24.
8
Ibid.p.24.
9
Ibid,p.26.
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