What’s really fuelling SA mine protests?

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It was at a mining industry gathering at the swanky Inanda Club in Sandton last month, where delegates overlooking a world-class polo field nibbled on canapés and sipped frothy cappuccinos, that South32 COO Mike Fraser raised the issue.

Mining companies, once the backbone of the SA economy, now find themselves on the frontline as economic malaise and growing poverty have caused community unrest. And, as the frustrations among mine-affected communities head towards boiling point, SA miners are sounding the alarm.

Speaking to the FM separately, Fraser paints a troubling picture.

"They just arrived, blocked the mine gates and stopped people going to work," he explains from the African Pride hotel in Melrose Arch — a world away from the mining operations in question (which, incidentally, are being sold). "We lost six days of mining in our Klipspruit and Khutala operations in March this year because of community protest. And it didn’t just affect us, it was Glencore, Anglo — we were all stopped."

Beyond that, he says, the company has "day-to-day issues where community members will hijack buses transporting employees, kick employees out, take the bus and go protest somewhere".

Iron ore and chrome miner Assore has also had a hard time of it, particularly at its operations near Steelpoort in Limpopo.

"Almost on a daily basis we are facing disruptions of some sort, whether it’s interruption of transport for workers getting to and from the operations and the trucks that are taking finished goods away, [or the] blockading of roads, burning of trucks and things like that," says Assore CEO Charles Walters.

Though numbers are hard to come by, Tebello Chabana, senior executive of public affairs and transformation at the Minerals Council SA, says it’s clear that community unrest around mines is on the rise.

Take, for example, the far eastern limb of the platinum belt, which stretches from Belfast towards Polokwane. It includes Anglo American Platinum’s Twickenham mine and African Rainbow Minerals’ Modikwa mine.

"In 2018, they had about 158 incidents in that area — we’re talking about roadblocks, vehicles being hijacked and set alight, blocking access to mine property, destruction of property, mining employees being stopped going to work," Chabana says.

There is no way [the situation] can continue like this, with pockets of enormous wealth and huge swathes of poverty

—  Christopher Rutledge

By June 2019, that number had already almost doubled to about 300.

"It shows a definite rise, certainly in that part of the country," he says. "We are seeing a similar trend in the Mpumalanga area, but I have no numbers to report."

The economic effect for companies is also hard to quantify, says Chabana. As for what is driving the unrest, he says there are several factors, but at the very core is the deepening poverty in the country. Many other industry players agree.

But Christopher Rutledge, an ActionAid activist and executive director of the advice office for Mining Affected Communities United in Action (Macua), sees things differently. "At the heart of this is the exclusion of communities," he says.

In Rutledge’s view, the voice of communities has been ignored. Now, and historically, he says, organised business, organised labour, and the government decide what happens.

But combining the voices of affected communities across SA is no easy feat. "When we, as Macua, held our first meeting back in 2012, we had about 150 activists in the room, all coming from different communities, all raising different issues and experiences with different companies," says Rutledge.

The group resolved to consult, collate and communicate the central issues affecting communities with one voice. The result was the 2016 People’s Mining Charter, which is based on nine key principles that speak to pervasive issues ranging from consultation to compensation; from access to information, to rehabilitation and women’s rights.

The charter highlights a predominant point of tension in communities when it calls for a democratic process for fair distribution of the benefits derived from mining. That includes not just jobs, but also profits, procurement and local economic development.

Take, for example, the town of Kriel, Mpumalanga, which has been seized with protests as community members demand to benefit from economic activity there. Frustrated locals say they can’t get jobs at the surrounding mines — not unless they’re prepared to pay for them.

"We are held at gunpoint by a structure known as the local forum, which is endorsed by some of the police members," says Kriel resident Zanele Nhlabathi. "It makes it difficult for community members to get a job on their own.

"You must do it through the structure and you must pay a bribe.

"We are surrounded by so much wealth, but we are not benefiting from these companies; they are not ploughing [resources] back to us."

Residents complain that contracts are similarly awarded to certain individuals. Meanwhile, local skills development hubs number just one.

Further north, in Carolina, the situation is similar. Locals say they have to be aligned with particular individuals to access particular benefits.

According to Bonisile Fortunate Shongwe, who heads the Carolina Employment, Business & Training Centre, there is not one skills development hub, despite there being nine sizeable mining operations in the area.

The People’s Charter calls for communities to have a voice in decisionmaking and to be properly and democratically represented. It’s an issue that was brought into sharp focus in Xolobeni, in the Eastern Cape, when a tussle over the right to mine caused unrest in the area, leading to several deaths.

But a legal challenge brought by the community — and a resultant landmark victory — means the department of mineral resources must not just consult communities, but also obtain full and informed consent from them before mining rights can be awarded in affected areas.

The state is appealing the ruling on the grounds that it effectively transfers the government’s ability to issue mining rights to communities.

The People’s Charter further calls for restitution and reparations to correct historical wrongs — including by protecting environmental, social, cultural and heritage rights, such as spiritual connections to land, people and nature.

Jabulile Masango has experienced such wrongs first-hand. As she walks through the scrubby Thubelihle cemetery where her twin brother is buried, her eyes cloud with emotion.

He is here, somewhere, but she doesn’t know where. His body was moved to the cemetery from the family plot by a coal mining company that wanted to mine the area. His is an unmarked grave — one of about 250 with gravestones that say only "Lala Ngoxolo [Rest in Peace]".

More than 100km away, Gogo Minha Mpila’s family graves have also been disturbed. The incessant blasting at a nearby mine is gradually causing the local burial ground to sink. The community has approached the mine for help many times, it says, to no avail.

The People’s Charter calls for both rehabilitation of land, as well as compensation for loss of livelihoods and resources.

Even though the mine relocated Mpila, 80, to a new house when operational activities caused her original home to crack and falter, she wishes she could turn back the clock to before the mining began.

"In winter and summer, there was space for the cows to graze. The water was OK, we were able to plant and grow food. Now we can’t use the water and the animals can’t eat," she says, noting that a neighbour recently lost seven cows. "They should never have been allowed to mine here. The mine has taken away almost everything that we had."

The People’s Charter calls for effective recourse mechanisms for communities before, during and after mining. And for free and easy access to information.

That would likely help the teachers at Goebram Primary School in Kromkrans, a speck on the map on the road to Hendrina. They are in the dark about the constant mining activity taking place right next to the school.

"It really affects the school," says Sibongile Mthethwa, one of four teachers for the school’s 176-odd pupils. "If we are aware they are going to blast, we have to release the learners," she says.

Most of the time, however, there is no warning.

"When they are blasting, the children start shaking. Some of them cry. They even fall down or they come to hold you," says Mthethwa’s colleague, Zodwa Nkosi, clutching the hem of her skirt to demonstrate.

Moments later a deep boom rings out in the distance and the ceiling begins to rattle. "See!" she exclaims.

For years now, the teachers have heard that the mine will relocate the school — but where to remains unclear. "They have been singing that song for years. They say we are moving that side," says Mthethwa. "Which side? That side," she says gesturing broadly to the other side of the main road.

The People’s Charter wants women to be consulted on all issues affecting them, in all structures. Basic as this may seem, life remains an uphill battle for women in mining towns. They pay the highest price for living there, but are on the losing end when it comes to jobs and other economic benefits.

Nonprofit organisation Womandla has taken up the fight on behalf of women in the Carolina area.

"The level of rape in the area is very high," says Nomonde Nkosi, a founding member of Womandla. "You will also find that women tend to stay in abusive relationships because they don’t have income.

"Most of the women are in love with men who work on the mine. But when the mine closes, they leave them with kids, sometimes with HIV. So you see how women are affected by mining."

However, it’s near impossible for a woman to obtain work at any of the local mines. Womandla says managers often cite concerns about pregnancy and how this will affect production.

More generally, women account for about 13% of SA mining’s workforce, according to the Minerals Council.

The People’s Charter was presented to the government for consideration in drafting the third Mining Charter. What ultimately filtered into the final policy was that a 5% shareholding must be held in a community trust.

"It’s not exactly what we asked for. We’ve made it clear we are not happy with just adding a trust," says Rutledge. "There has to be a democratic process as to how it is controlled. Until then, it’s just another conduit for the politically connected."

Economic hardship and deepening poverty light the torch of unrest. Exclusion, say activists, fans the flames

—  What it means:

The industry, through the Minerals Council, is challenging portions of the charter in court. Chabana says this will not affect company social & labour plans (SLPs), which mines must develop and execute as a condition to holding a mining right, and through which most of their social and labour work is done.

There are big challenges though, and by their nature, the plans encourage piecemeal projects that tend to have minimal effect.

They are also informed by the government’s local integrated development plans, which are flawed documents in many ways, says Chabana. "Communities are not consulted sufficiently so [the plans] do not represent the needs of the communities well — they tend to be cut-and-paste jobs, they are not good documents on which to base development in those particular areas."

Chabana says the growing issue of community unrest has made mining in SA more challenging. But it has also galvanised mining companies to say: "Maybe what we are doing isn’t working; let’s try to do it better."

The sector is aware that it needs to review the way it is doing things so that projects of scale with greater social impact can be implemented.

But Rutledge says that while the government is at fault, corporates are not innocent either. A recent social audit by ActionAid of 10 mining communities found companies operating there had not fulfilled their SLPs.

Chabana says the industry is working towards a more co-ordinated approach to community development, as well as mitigating unrest, and a lot of planning is taking place — though often behind closed doors.

"As an SA company we’re concerned about what we see," says Assore’s Walters, referring to "increased community unrest and dissatisfaction with the status quo. And the lack of policy response from the government."

The department of mineral resources says it works to interact and intervene where there is community dissatisfaction. It has also developed a framework that encourages mining right-holders to engage.

"Issues vary [by] area, but common among these are concerns relating to unemployment in the communities," the department says. "It is important that right-holders are in regular engagement with communities and other stakeholders to proactively address issues as they arise, before tensions escalate."

But it’s frustratingly slow for those on the ground. Rutledge says Macua is constantly asked by communities to be more radical, but it is sticking with its approach to try to change the law.

"We have been raising the alarm about inequality and how that is going to lead to a rise in community protests," he says. "There is just no way — with the economy the way it is, 70% of these people unemployed, the rest surviving on grants — there is no way [the situation] can continue like this, with pockets of enormous wealth and huge swathes of poverty. It’s just not sustainable in any way."