Members of the mining community walk among crosses placed at a hill known as the "Hill of Horror", where 43 miners died during clashes with the police last year. Members of the mining community walk among crosses placed at a hill known as the "Hill of Horror", where 43 miners died during clashes with the police last year.
North West - The black cloud of Marikana was set to hang over South Africa for a long time. But there are those who see it as a victory. Workers laid down their lives so their colleagues could see improved wages, working and living conditions. But the big question is whether the Marikana tragedy was the last of its kind – or only the beginning of a more intense labour revolution.
It is certainly true that labour organisations and workers seemed to grow in strength, conscious of the mighty power they possess to bring change, yet also manipulate or even abuse adverse circumstances to get what they want.
At the time, strikes and tools-down, whether legal or not, were the workers’ most powerful weapons. Mining companies were desperate for profits and a recovery from economic meltdown. Platinum mining was especially in distress, sitting on huge surpluses and low selling prices.
With these precipitous troubles expected to be around for a while, companies were already snivelling, threatening job cuts and shaft closures, citing escalating operational costs, low or no profits.
This left those wanting to push for a mining labour revolution in a tight spot. Workers were desperate for improved wages but none of them would want to see themselves joining the massive unemployment figures in the country.
Fast forward to recent wage demands by mining labour unions in the gold sector, which have attracted lots of criticism. Antagonists have asked whether workers considered the current situation in the industry before coming up with “impractical” figures.
The largest union in the gold sector, the National Union of Mineworkers (NUM), was demanding a wage increase of between 15 and 60 percent. The second largest union and NUM arch-rival, the Association of Mineworkers and Construction Union (Amcu), raised the bar and demanded 150 percent. Both unions believe mining companies could offer way more than the 4 percent the Chamber of Mines had put on the table against their huge demands. It remained to be seen if any improvement on the offer would be tabled by mining companies who were loudly crying poverty. Following intense mediation and marathon negotiations, Lonmin miners agreed to a 22 percent increase, which covered a once-off payment to end the strike. They had been demanding salary increases of about R5 000 to R12 500, which they believed was a living wage.
The truth is miners were struggling to survive on their current salaries against ever-rising inflation. They were forced to seek short-lived relief from loan sharks choking themselves with debt and plunging their families into severe poverty.
The fact that most mineworkers were opting to live in shacks and squalor as opposed to mine residences was a sign of desperation to boost their income. They were, after all, paid almost R2 000 a month as a living-out allowance.
These were just some of the aspects of what led to the illegal Lonmin strike which turned violent. With confidence lost in their labour unions, workers decided to take it upon themselves to confront the company and demand better wages.
They spoke out on the daily experience in the face of death in crammed working space in the earth’s belly. They felt that their hard labour and risks that came with it should be matched with better wages.
Lonmin had, during an earlier strike last year, acceded to demands and given workers an increase outside the bargaining processes, but the company was not prepared to do it again when the strike began on August 9 last year.
They had set a dangerous precedent which was back to haunt them, and when they refused to reprise it, violence was unleashed. Catastrophe followed.
The wave of violent strikes spilt over to other mines as workers, angered by the deaths of their colleagues on August 16, downed tools and joined the chorus in demand for living wages. And so a new era was ushered in, presenting an enormous challenge for the mining industry, which was already going through a test, the outcome of which will be revealed at the end of this year’s bargaining round. It could be the toughest in the history of the sector.
The Marikana effect has also been profoundly felt in political spheres. President Jacob Zuma lost ground when he was seen to be silent on a disaster that rocked our global image. It was his government that was accused of unleashing its police to kill miners. Through its association with the government and links to Cosatu and NUM, the ANC also suffered reputation damage.
Marikana became the site of anti-ANC sentiment at the same rate at which NUM membership dwindled. The once-mighty union was relegated from being the majority union in the platinum belt to a back-bencher, leaving Amcu to take over the reins as the majority.
Meanwhile, while some can claim ironic victory or draw some ray of hope from the Marikana tragedy, the bloodshed has robbed more than 40 families of breadwinners, left a handful of women widowed and children fatherless.
Whatever comes out of the seemingly strong optimism and confidence by the labour organisations after Marikana, these families will forever remain victims.
They are yet to find closure and are still struggling to fit together a puzzle created in the Farlam Commission of Inquiry probing the events leading to and on August 16.
Contesting versions presented in defence and in bids to secure responsibility on others’ part does little to help the families find answers to the deaths of their loved ones. The commission has in 10 months had 114 sessions and 12 000 pages of transcripts from the proceedings, but this has brought little by way of answers for those whose losses remain a constant reminder of the Lonmin labour unrests.
The Star
