Category Archives: Amandla Magazine

Unfreedom Day Land Occupation: Police assault activists

Unfreedom Day Land Occupation: Police assault activists

by Camilla Rose Coutts

On 27 April 2013 Abahlali baseMjondolo (AbM), the largest organisation of the militant poor in post-apartheid South Africa, established in Durban in 2005. Released a press statement entitled “Marikana: A New Land Occupation Founded on UnFreedom Day 2013.”

The statement says: “Members of Abahlali baseMjondolo of the Western Cape have occupied a piece of vacant land in Philippi, Cape Town. Shacks have been built and families have moved in to their new homes. The new land occupation has been called ‘Marikana’. We call it Marikana because our sisters and brothers organised themselves there and some of our brothers died there and we too are organising ourselves peacefully and are willing to die for our struggle.

We are the community of Philippi East. Most of us are unemployed and don’t have a place to stay. That is why we decided to reclaim this vacant and unused land and to make it a place for people to stay.

The DA has a record of violently imposing unlawful and unconstitutional evictions on the poor in Cape Town. The law of the land states clearly that no one can be evicted from their home without an order of the court. Sheldon Magardie, the Director of the Legal Resources Centre in Cape Town, has explained this clearly:

If the DA tries to evict these families without a court order their action will be unconstitutional and criminal. We will use legal procedures and collective action to protect ourselves against any unlawful eviction.

The state is failing to resolve the housing crisis. Therefore it is necessary for the poor to take matters into our own hands. It is up to us to win our own freedom.”

I arrived at Marikana, Philippi close to 11am this morning. There was a heavy police presence, some 500metres up the road from the newly built area, Marikana. Six police vehicles, bakkies and riot vans, and a Casper. Police are dressed with protected padding and riot helmets.

I ask an officer “What is going on?”

“Nothing,” he says, “Why would you ask?”

“Because there are an awful lot of police vans.” I say.

Another officer walks up to me. He asks if I am media. I tell him I am not. He points at my camera.

“Is that a camera?”

“Yes, it is a camera.”

“Then you are media.”

“I do not work for any publication. I am on not media.”

“What are you?”

“I am a student.”

“You shouldn’t be here. It is dangerous.” He says.

“Why would it be dangerous, if nothing is happening?”

“You don’t want people to start throwing stones.”

At Marikana the residents stand huddled in a group. Cindy, Abahlali baseMjondolo’s Cape Town representative explains that the residents had put the shacks up the previous week. And they had been demolished.

The residents had lived in the bush until they found materials to rebuild.

Cindy explains that law enforcers came this morning and put crosses on the shacks. When residents asked why they are planning to demolish this side and not that side – indicating the still new but more established shacks on the same land that had also gone through several demolitions.

The law enforcers had said they were different, those shacks had been there quite long but their shacks were new. They did not present a court order, and could not give residents a person to contact.

Residents were told to remove the contents of their shacks, or the shacks would be demolished with their possessions inside.

Cindy says, “When residents asked for protection [from the police against law enforcers] they say they are also here to protect the law enforcement, and we ask the cops to ask them if they do have a court order. They [the police] say they don’t have a court order.”

We are told that Law Enforcement will arrive in five minutes to start the removal.

A police bakkie filled with men in yellow vests, a truck and the Casper. The men in the bakkie are wielding iron rods or crow bars; they are not close enough to tell.

An eye witness, AbM supporter, later states that, “Ten out of twelve shacks were demolished, a young lady was shot twice with rubber bullets, and some other people had minor assault injuries.

Police assaulted residents. Two people were arrested, one was a resident and the other an AbM activist called Tumi.

They were released around 8pm on bail of R1, 500; they will appear at 9am on fabricated charges of public violence.

Both prisoners were released because of pressure by the community which protested outside the police station for five hours.”

Amandla: Echoes of the Past: Marikana, Cheap Labour and the 1946 Miners Strike

Echoes of the Past: Marikana, Cheap Labour and the 1946 Miners Strike

by Chris Webb

On August 4, 1946 over one thousand miners assembled in Market Square in Johannesburg, South Africa. No hall in the town was big enough to hold them, and no one would have rented one to them anyway. The miners were members of the African Mine Worker’s Union (AMWU), a non-European union which was formed five years earlier in order to address the 12 to 1 pay differential between white and black mineworkers. The gathering carried forward just one unanimous resolution: African miners would demand a minimum wage of ten shillings (about 1 Rand) per day. If the Transvaal Chamber of Mines did not meet this demand, all African mine workers would embark on a general strike immediately. Workers mounted the platform one after the other to testify: “When I think of how we left our homes in the reserves, our children naked and starving, we have nothing more to say. Every man must agree to strike on 12 August. It is better to die than go back with empty hands.” The progressive Guardian newspaper reported an old miner getting to his feet and addressing his comrades: “We on the mines are dead men already!”[1]

The massacre of 45 people, including 34 miners, at Marikana in the North West province is an inevitable outcome of a system of production and exploitation that has historically treated human life as cheap and disposable. If there is a central core – a stem in relation to which so many other events are branches – that runs through South African history, it is the demand for cheap labour for South Africa’s mines. “There is no industry of the size and prosperity of this that has managed its cheap labour policy so successfully,” wrote Ruth First in reference to the Chamber of Mines ability to pressure the government for policies that displaced Africans from their land and put them under the boot of mining bosses.[2]

Masters and Servants

Mechanisms such as poll and hut taxes, pass laws, Masters and Servants Acts and grinding rural poverty were all integral in ensuring a cheap and uninterrupted supply of labour for the mines. Pass laws were created in order to forge a society in which farm work or mining was the only viable employment options for the black population. And yet the low wages and dangerous work conditions kept many within the country away, forcing the Chamber of Mines to recruit labour from as far afield as Malawi and China throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Sordid deals between Portuguese East Africa and Apartheid South Africa ensured forced labour to be recruited for the mines and by 1929 there were 115,000 Mozambicans working underground. “It has been said,” wrote First in her study of migrant Mozambican miners, “that the wealth of Reef gold mines lies not in the richness of the strike but in the low costs of production kept down by cheap labour.”[3]

When AMWU was formed in 1941 black miners earned 70 Rand a year while white workers received 848 Rand. White miners had been organized for many years, but there was little solidarity between the two groups as evidenced by the 1922 Rand Rebellion led by the whites-only Mine Workers Union. White miners went on strike against management’s attempt at weakening the colour bar in order to facilitate the entry of cheaper black labour into skilled positions. Supported by the Communist Party of South Africa under the banner of “Unite and Fight for a White South Africa!” the rebellion was viciously crushed by the state leaving over 200 dead. The growth of non-European unions in the 1940s was dramatic and for the very first time the interests of African mineworkers were on the table. Their demands threatened the very foundations of the cheap labour system, and so in 1944 Prime Minister Jan Smuts tabled the War Measure 1425 preventing a gathering of 20 or more on mine property. Despite these difficulties the union pressed on and in 1946 they approached the Chamber of Mines with their demand for wage increases. A letter calling for last minute negotiations with the Chamber of Mines was, as usual, ignored.

By August 12th tens-of-thousands of black miners were on strike from the East to the West Rand. The state showed the utmost brutality, chasing workers down mineshafts with live ammunition and cracking down on potential sympathy strikes in the city of Johannesburg. By August 16th the state had bludgeoned 100,000 miners back to work and nine lay dead. Throughout the four-day strike hundreds of trade union leaders were arrested, with the central committee of the Communist Party and local ANC leaders arrested and tried for treason and sedition. The violence came on the cusp of the 1948 elections, which would see further repression and the beginning of the country’s anti-communist hysteria.

National Union of Mineworkers Poster on Fortieth Anniversary of 1946 Strike.

While it did not succeed in its immediate aims, the strike was a watershed moment in South African politics and would forever change the consciousness of the labour movement. Thirty years late Monty Naicker, one of the leading figures in the South African Indian Congress, argued that the strike “transformed African politics overnight. It spelt the end of the compromising, concession-begging tendencies that dominated African politics. The timid opportunism and begging for favours disappeared.”[4] The Native Representative Council, formed by the state in 1937 to address the age old ‘native question,’ disbanded on August 15th and ANC president Dr. A.B. Xuma reiterated the demand for “recognition of African trade unions and adequate wages for African workers including mineworkers.”[5]

The 1946 mineworkers strike was the spark that ignited the anti-apartheid movement. The ANC Youth League’s 1949 Program of Action owes much to the militancy of these workers as does the Defiance Campaign of the 1950s and the emergence of the ANC’s armed wing Umkhonto we Sizwe (Spear of the Nation) in the 1960s. It is too early to say what sort of impact the current Lonmin strike will have on South African politics, but it seems unlikely that it will be as transformative as those of the past. The National Union of Mineworkers (NUM), arguably the heirs to the 1946 strike are currently engaged in a series of territorial disputes with the breakaway Association of Mineworkers and Construction Union (AMCU). Meanwhile COSATU’s muted response has echoed the ANC’s line of equal-culpability and half-mast public mourning. The increasingly incoherent South African Communist Party has called for the arrest of AMCU leaders with some of its so-called cadres defending the police action. Former ANC Youth League leader Julius Malema’s plea for miners to hold the line and form a more militant union reek of political opportunism.

Still Dependant on Cheap and Flexible Labour

What no one has dared to say, aside from the miners themselves, is that the mining industry remains dependant on cheap and flexible labour, much of it continuing to come from neighbouring countries. This has historically been the source of most miner’s grievances. A recent Bench Marks Foundation study of platinum mines in the North West province uncovered a number of factors linked to rising worker discontent in the region. Lonmin was singled out as a mine with high levels of fatalities, very poor living conditions for workers and unfulfilled community demands for employment. Perhaps most significant is the fact that almost a third of Lonmin’s workforce is employed through third party contractors.[6] This form of employment is not new in the mining industry. In fact, since minerals were discovered in the 19th century labour recruiters have scoured the southern half of the continent for workers. The continued presence of these ‘labour brokers’ on the mines and the ANC’s unwillingness to ban them – opting instead for a system of increasing regulation – is the bloody truth of South Africa’s so-called ‘regulated flexibility.’

There are a number other findings from the Bench Marks study that are worth mentioning as they illuminate some of the real grievances that have been lost amid photos of waving pangas. The number of fatalities at Lonmin has doubled since January 2011, and the company has consistently ignored community calls for employment, favouring contractors and migrant workers. A visit by the Bench Marks Foundation research team to Marikana revealed:

“A proliferation of shacks and informal settlements, the rapid deterioration of formal infra-structure and housing in Marikana itself, and the fact that a section of the township constructed by Lonmin did not have electricity for more than a month during the time of our last visit. At the RDP Township we found broken down drainage systems spilling directly into the river at three different points.”[7]

In fact, the study predicted further violent protests at Marikana in the coming year. The mass dismissal of 9000 workers in May last year inflamed already tense relations between the community and the mine as dismissed workers lost their homes in the company’s housing scheme.

Once again, these facts are hardly new in the world of South African mining. Behind the squalid settlements that surround the mineshafts there are immense profits to be made. In recent years the platinum mining industry has prospered like no other thanks to the increased popularity of platinum jewellery and the use of the metal in vehicle exhaust systems in the United State and European countries. Production increased by 60 per cent between 1980 and 1994, while the price soared almost fivefold. The value of sales, almost all exported, thus increased to almost 12 per cent of total sales by the mining industry. The price rose so dramatically throughout the 1990s that it is on par with gold as the country’s leading mineral export.[8] South Africa’s platinum industry is the largest in the world and in 2011 reported total revenues of $13.3-billion, which is expected to increase by 15.8% over the next five years. Lonmin itself is one of the largest producers of platinum in the world, and the bulk of its tonnage comes from the Marikana mine. The company recorded revenues of $1.9-billion in 2011, an increase of 25.7%, the majority of which would come from the Marikana shafts.[9]

For risking mutilation and death underground workers at Marikana made only 4000 Rand, or $480 a month. As one miner told South Africa’s Mail and Guardian newspaper that, “It’s better to die than to work for that shit … I am not going to stop striking. We are going to protest until we get what we want. They have said nothing to us. Police can try and kill us but we won’t move.” These expressions of frustration and anger could be from 1922, 1946 or today. They are scathing indictments of an industry that continues to treat its workers as disposable and a state that upholds apartheid’s cheap labour policies. •

Chris Webb is a postgraduate student at York University, Toronto where he is researching labour restructuring in South African agriculture.


1. Monty Naicker, “The African Miners Strike of 1946,” 1976.

2. Ruth First, “The Gold of Migrant Labour,” Spearhead, 1962.

3. Ruth First, “The Gold of Migrant Labour,” Spearhead, 1962.

4. Monty Naicker, “The African Miners Strike of 1946,” 1976.

5. Dr. A.B. Xuma quoted in Monty Naicker, “The African Miners Strike of 1946.”

6. The Bench Marks Foundation, “Communities in the Platinum Minefields,” 2012.

7. The Bench Marks Foundation, “Communities in the Platinum Minefields,” 2012.

8. Charles Feinstein, An Economic History of South Africa, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005, 211.

9. Marketline Advantage Reports on South Africa’s Platinum Group Metals, 2011.

Amandla Magazine: Review of No Land! No House! No Vote!

Review of No Land! No House! No Vote! for Amandla Magazine

Amandla Magazine, South Africa
by Martin Legassick

On 19 December 2007, encouraged by their Democratic Alliance (DA) councilor, backyarders in Delft illegally occupied unfinished houses in the N2 Gateway scheme. After battling in court, they were evicted on 19 February 2008. Many of them decided to remain across the road from the N2 Gateway houses, and built shacks along the pavement of Symphony Way. After a further 20 months of contestation these people were evicted again, to the nearby Blikkiesdorp Temporary Relocation Area (TRA).

This book relates stories of their experiences on Symphony Way, told by the people themselves, in their own words. The text was also edited by them. It is a remarkable and moving volume, charged with emotion and satiated with reasonableness. There is both poetry and prose. It is written for the outside world: “Put your shoes into my shoes and wear me like a human being would wear another human being” Conway Payn starts his story. It is a book which will make you cry, and laugh, and get frustratingly angry at the crassness of government. I wish I could bury the noses of Tokyo Sexwale and Bonginkosi Madikazela in its pages. Everyone should buy this book and read it.We read of births and marriages on the pavement, of arrests and confrontations with police and cold government officials. One family describes how they occupied an N2 Gateway house after living in different backyards for 14 years – compelled to move on by close friends or relatives – and they were not the only ones. A 16 year-old girl describes her disgust at having to go to school with non-ironed clothes because of no electricity. Life on the pavement was tough but it was democratic and collective. One woman describes how her personality changed from introspective and fearful to outgoing as the result of her experiences on the pavement. What shines through is the persistence of their struggle, their self-confidence and pride as the result of the struggle. Constantly they insist on their human dignity, when treated like animals by officialdom. “We may be poor but we are not stupid” is a refrain that runs through the pages. And their desperate hope is encouraging and a sign of their collectivity – hope that they will get houses. Several children born on the pavement were named “Hope.”Let me conclude with an extract from a letter written by Bahiya Claasen to Richard Dyantyi, then Western Cape MEC for housing:

“I’m writing this letter on behalf of everyone who are staying on the pavement. Sir, we are so sick and tired of everybody who hords power in their hands, people who have deprived us of our rights. People who think they can throw us around and just walk over us. Mainly the people who sits on their high pedestals that thinks nother [nothing] of our poor Children, and they are the ones who suffer the most. Then I think to myself is this our New Generation? Or our Forgotten Generation?

“At night while your children enjoy a nice healthy meal, our children must eat sand in their food. While your children enjoy a nice hot bath we must wait for our water to boil on a fire. What I admire the most of our children is that they never complain. Our children think that life must be like this. And 1 think how wrong of you and everybody in Government to do this to our children. I’m writing this letter with tears in my eyes and a broken heart thinking what is going to happen to our NEW GENERATION Generation? Or should I say our FORGOTTON GENERATION?

“If Sir! You do not want to think of us! Then please please think of our children!!!

“Sir! My most concern is that winter is on its way. And like a lot of us, I am on the housing waiting list for more than 13 years…”

A short review cannot do justice to the book. Read it for yourselves – and learn.