The Marikana Massacre: South Africa's Deadly Strike

Marikana Massacre – Who Fired the First Shot

South Africa is a country with a long history of racial oppression, a situation that only changed in 1994 when the country held its first democratic election and started its long journey of transformation. In the days before South Africa was a full democracy, it was the white minority government using the police as a tool to deal with activists and protestors. However, democracy was supposed to change all of that. It was a dream thousands had fought and died for.

However, on August 16, 2012, the dream shattered. On one of the darkest days in South Africa’s recent history, on a small rocky outcrop in Marikana, it was the government elected by the people and the police supposed to serve and protect the people that opened fire, killing 34 mine workers in order to protect the financial interests of a British owned mining company. The white minority had been replaced by a new group of elites, unwilling to give up wealth and power, who sold out the very people who supported their rise to power, disregarding the rights they themselves had fought so hard for.

More than 10 years after the massacre, those directly affected still haven’t seen justice done, and children are asking why the police shot their fathers. Everyone has their own story – the police, the miners, and the media, so today we’re going to take a look at the Marikana Massacre and try to determine what happened on that fateful day.

The Players in the Game

Since its early days, mining has always been one of the central pillars of the South African economy, starting with the discovery of diamonds and gold all the way back in the 1800s. Today, around 80% of the world’s platinum is mined in South Africa, and it’s the second largest producer of gold.

In order to really understand the series of events that led up to that tragic day, we need to consider some of the major players in the tragedy – Lonmin PLC, a British mining company that owned and operated the Marikana mine, around 80 miles north of Johannesburg, the labour unions who were supposed to represent the workers in the dispute, and the workers who initiated the strike.

Historically, mine workers in South Africa were recruited from the poor rural areas, especially the Eastern Cape, as well as neighbouring countries like Mozambique and Lesotho. Initially, the men lived in same-sex hostels, sending money back home to their families, but, by the 1980s, the anti-apartheid struggle pressured the mining companies to replace the hostel system. Providing housing would’ve been expensive, so, instead, the mines offered a ‘living out allowance’ of around $120 a month.

However, with little to no low cost housing available, and given that mineworkers couldn’t really afford transport on their meager salaries, thousands of miners moved into informal settlements around the mines without any basic services. While the mine was supplied with all the electricity and water it needed to extract and refine the platinum, those doing the work lived in corrugated iron shacks in informal settlements with no infrastructure, no electricity and no indoor plumbing – water had to be collected in buckets from communal taps around the settlement, if the taps worked. If not, their only option was polluted streams.

After the election in 1994, President Nelson Mandela made a new agreement with the mines that acquired their mining rights under the Apartheid government. In order to secure their mining rights in the new South Africa, Lonmin, along with other international mining houses, had to present a Social and Labour Plan. According to this plan, the mine had to commit to improving the living situation of their workers and the surrounding community to make up for the decades of exploitation of cheap black labour by providing low cost housing and basic services.

In 2007, Lonmin received a $50 million investment from the International Finance Corporation (IFC), the private investment arm of the World Bank. Of that $50 million, $15 million was supposed to be spent on the surrounding communities to improve the standards of living. In the five years leading up to the massacre, not a cent of that money had been spent on the community.

While Lonmin was raking in around $6 million a day, the workers doing the back-breaking labour of extracting the platinum lived in squalor, being paid around R4000 to R5000 a month, $200 - $250 in today’s currency, which wasn’t nearly enough. Most workers were sending money home to their families, many of whom were still living in the historical homelands created for black South Africans by the apartheid government. To make ends meet, they would often end up borrowing money from “micro-lenders”, specializing in payday loans at interest rates as high as 50% a month, plunging them into a spiral of debt that was impossible to escape. Since many workers could only afford to go home once a year, if at all, many ended up starting a second family in their new homes meaning the already small salary now had to support multiple families.

Along with lousy pay and poor living conditions, the workers also weren’t satisfied with their working conditions. The strike was initiated by the Rock Drill Operators (RDOs), who worked long hours in dangerous conditions. The Rock Drill Operators operate the drills that carve out the stone before it’s cleaned and blasted with explosives to get to the platinum, so falling rocks is a constant threat.

Due to production targets, miners would often spend up to 12 hours or even 13 hours, even though the law states no more than 8 hours, hunched up over heavy drills, breathing air filled with dust and chemicals. The workers also claimed to be under a lot of pressure from bosses who wanted to maximize production, even expecting workers to break the rules, threatening them with dismissal if they refused.

With workers feeling exploited, the situation on the mine was already tense, but was made worse by a turf war between two unions. When South Africa became a full democracy in 1994, a ‘tripartite alliance’ was formed between the ruling political party, the African National Congress (ANC), the Congress of South African Trade Unions, or Cosatu for short, and the South African Communist party. In 2012, the dominant union at Marikana was the National Union of Mineworkers (NUM).

The union was affiliated with Cosatu and had close ties to the ANC, the most prominent fighter against white minority rule during the Apartheid years. However, many workers felt that NUM wasn’t protecting their interests anymore, rather focusing on politics, so NUM was losing ground against a new union, the Association of Mineworkers and Construction (AMCU). This weakened the political power of NUM and its associates, Cosatu and the ANC, and was considered a threat to those in power.

After the massacre, many reports claimed that the massacre was because of the war between the two unions but, as we’ll see, while the war didn’t help matters, it wasn’t the cause. NUM’s attitude towards the workers it was meant to protect was a bigger factor.

In South Africa, the union with the majority membership gets to bargain on behalf of the workforce – in this case, that union was NUM. The workers were asking for more money, a living wage, but NUM refused to take their grievances to Lonmin Management. During a time of economic upturn for the country, when unions were in the best possible position to fight for significant wage increases to improve the lives of exploited workers, NUM failed its members by apparently choosing to protect the interests of the company over the rights of the workers.

There are even allegations that NUM officials were rewarded for their loyalty to Lonmin with pay raises, cars, and phones. With the situation at Marikana rapidly escalating, NUM should’ve stepped in, championing the rights of their striking members and protecting members not participating in the strike from violent reprisals, but, once again, NUM failed spectacularly, opting to protect its own interests and those of Lonmin over those of the workers.

Since the workers didn’t trust NUM to take their grievances to management, and AMCU didn’t yet have enough members to have the bargaining power, the miners decided on approaching mine management without the union. With neither union in charge of the strike, and since correct procedures for industrial action had not been followed, the strike was considered illegal, and often called illegal in the press. However, this is problematic as a worker’s right to strike is protected under the South African constitution. At most, the strike could be considered a wildcat strike, or unprotected strike, meaning that the workers weren’t protected from dismissal as would be the case with a protected strike.

With a union not standing up for the rights of their members, a mining company and government more interested in profit than the lives of those generating the wealth, and workers feeling that their voices weren’t being heard, disaster was inevitable.

Timeline of Events

9 August, 2012

On Thursday, a public holiday when South Africans celebrate Women’s Day, hundreds of Rock Drill Operators gathered at the Wonderkop football stadium, close to the administrative buildings at the center of the mine complex. Word had reached them that Rock Drill Operators at the Impala Platinum mine, around 30 miles away near Rustenburg, had managed to negotiate better pay after a long strike without the approval or assistance of their union, outside the formal bargaining structures, suggesting that something like this had a good chance of success.

After some discussion, the collected workers decided to ask for an increase from their current pay, between $200 and $250 dollars, to R12 500, or around $650 in today’s money. However, few of the workers thought they would actually get that much – it was just the opening offer. After negotiation, they expected to get around R8 900, or $470 in today’s currency, which was still considerably more than most of them were earning at the time.

With NUM unwilling to step up and open negotiations for them, the workers decided to take their demands directly to Lonmin Management as they felt they had no other option. The Rock Drill Operators would strike the next day with the rest of the workers going to work as normal. However, without the RDOs, production would be limited.

Without a union to represent them, the workers elected a committee consisting of five members. The strike at the Impala Mine had turned violent, and one of the main responsibilities of this elected committee was to prevent unnecessary violence, vandalism and intimidation that often go hand-in-hand with labour strikes in South Africa. So, it appears that the strikers were committed to maintain peace and order while presenting their demands to Lonmin.

However, on Thursday evening, Bernard Mokwena, Lonmin Executive Vice President at the time, wrote an internal memo where he advised the company not to consider the workers’ demands. Since NUM wasn’t involved with the strike, the company could make the decision not to recognize the strike as a legal protest and refuse to negotiate. Instead, Mokwena suggested that the company fire all the striking workers and call in the police to deal with the situation.

10 August

On Friday, the striking workers marched to the offices of Lonmin’s local senior management. After arriving at the offices, a security guard told the strikers that management would respond within 15 minutes or so. However, after waiting for three hours, the workers were finally informed that management wouldn’t be negotiating.

After the successful wildcat strike at the Impala mine, Lonmin management was wary to negotiate directly with the workers, worried about continuing a trend. If the workers wanted to open negotiations, they had to follow the correct channels and present their concerns through their union, NUM. Frustrated by Lonmin’s unwillingness to come to the table, the workers returned to Wonderkop stadium where they decided to expand the strike to include more workers, starting with the night shift, and called for a meeting with all the workers the next morning.

11 August

On Saturday morning, the strikers once again gathered in the football stadium. The plan was to follow the instructions of Lonmin and march to the NUM offices, close to the Lonmin offices, to protest. There are some conflicting reports regarding this march. Some reports claim that the intention of the workers was to present their case to NUM so that NUM could negotiate with Lonmin on their behalf.

Other reports claim that NUM had already interfered the previous day and had a hand in Lonmin’s decision not to engage directly with the workers, and the workers wanted an explanation from their union. Not only was NUM not helping them, NUM was apparently actively working against them.

The workers were on their way to the NUM office, around a kilometer away from the Wonderkop Stadium, when they were confronted by a line of men wearing red T-shirts. Once again, we have conflicting reports. The miners insist that they weren’t armed and the march was peaceful, however, other reports state that some of the miners were, in fact, carrying sticks and chanting aggressively.

According to NUM and Lonmin officials, an unnamed informant contacted Lonmin security stating that the striking workers were marching to the NUM office to burn it down. Lonmin security warned the NUM officials, asking them to leave their offices, just in case, but the NUM officials refused.

Regardless of who said what, the end result was a line of armed men facing down a group of protestors. Eyewitnesses, both strikers taking part in the march and informal traders around the taxi rank the march passed through, reported that the workers stopped the march, but around 15 - 20 armed men opened fire anyway, severely injuring two workers. Rumours did the rounds that the armed men pursued the protestors, and some of the protestors were beaten and cut, and that one of the injured men escaped but the other was hacked to death.

However, it was later revealed that both men were hospitalized with bullet wounds but both survived. It appeared that representatives of NUM were shooting at its own members, in the street in broad daylight, and things were taking a turn for the worse.

The strikers, fearing for their lives, scattered, running back to the stadium, but security refused them entry, threatening to use further force. No longer able to access the stadium, and worried about further attacks, the workers now moved to the Wonderkop koppie, a small rocky outcrop around 2km west of the stadium. The koppie provided a great view, something the workers felt was a necessity now that the situation had become violent. By now, more workers had joined the strike, furious by what they considered to be NUM’s betrayal and collusion with Lonmin.

Some of the workers returned to their homes in nearby Nkaneng in the evenings, but many of the workers stayed on the koppie for the next five days, some fearing for their lives at the hands of another attack. People living in nearby shacks and the township provided the protestors with food and water, and the workers also armed themselves with traditional weapons, machetes, spears and knives to protect themselves should NUM strike again. Unlike their aggressors, the strikers didn’t have guns. The services of a sangoma, a traditional healer, were called in in the hopes of protection against further violence.

12 August

On Sunday, the workers, still gathered at the koppie, decided to make another attempt at presenting their demands to NUM and protest the extreme violence they were met with the day before. On their way to the offices, the group of around 150 workers was stopped by security and police who once again started shooting at them, this time with rubber bullets. Unlike the day before, the workers didn’t turn around and flee back to the koppie; instead, armed with traditional weapons, they retaliated.

One security guard was hacked to death with machetes while another was burnt beyond recognition in his truck. Sadly, these weren’t the only deaths that day. Two miners, who refused to join the strike, were killed on their way to work that evening by striking colleagues.

By now, everyone was to blame – Lonmin security and NUM for violence against the protestors, and some of the protestors for violently lashing out at security and fellow workers who chose to go to work instead of joining the strike. At this point, Lonmin could’ve suspended operations at the mine to ensure the safety of their workers while the situation, which was rapidly spiraling out of control, was resolved. However, profit was more important than human lives, so operations continued.

13 August

On Monday morning, word reached the striking miners at the koppie that some non-striking workers were continuing work at one of the shafts, so a group of around 30 - 100 workers, depending on who you ask, set off to the shaft to inform those still working that they were expected to lay down their tools and join the strike.

Before they reached the shaft, they were intercepted by security guards, telling them they’ve been misinformed – there was no work happening at the No. 3 shaft. The security guards suggested that the strikers return to the koppie, taking a different route than the one they came by. By now the group had grown to around 200 striking workers.

On their way back to the koppie, the group ran into an armed police detachment waiting for them. As with so many details in this case, the exact size of this detachment is unclear though some workers later reported around three Nyalas, 4x4 Armoured Personnel Carriers used by the South African Police, and 20 police vans. The police surrounded the group and demanded that they lay down their weapons.

The leader of the group, Mambush, who would later become famous as ‘the man in the green blanket’, agreed that the group would give up their weapons once they reached the safety of the koppie. Initially, it seemed like the senior police officer in charge was willing to accept this until he got a phone call after which he informed the protestors that he was giving them to the count of 10 to lay down their arms or he would give the order to fire.

The workers refused. They started singing and making their way to the weakest point in the police line, in the direction of the koppie. At first, the police let them go but, after the group moved around 10m, the police apparently changed their minds. Officers started lobbing tear gas and stun grenades at the protestors.

The workers panicked and started running, at which point the police opened fire, fatally shooting three workers – one shot through the head from a distance of around 70m. None of the workers shot carried firearms. Once again, the workers retaliated and two police officers were killed, hacked to death by strikers who stole their guns. By the evening of the 13th, the photographs of the two officers hacked to death with machetes had been circulated among police officers across the country.

Things were now getting personal.

Following the events on the mine, Albert Jamieson, Chief Commercial Officer of Lonmin, contacted the Minister for Mineral Resources, Susan Shabangu, informing her about the situation at the mine and urging her to ‘bring the full might of the state to bear on the situation.’ Shabangu had previously been the Deputy Minister for Security, and once made a chilling remark when addressing a meeting with police officers, saying, ‘You must kill the bastards if they threaten you or your community. You must not worry about the regulations.

That is my responsibility.’ Not the best advice for an underpaid and poorly trained police force.

14 August

By now, the situation in Marikana had spiraled wildly out of control – mine workers, police officers and security guards had been killed, and the conflict was nowhere near resolved. A police negotiator finally arrived on the scene to try and defuse the situation.

Addressing the workers, he stated that he came in peace and friendship to build a relationship and asked to speak to five representatives. According to the five chosen representatives, the negotiator and his team refused to leave the Nyala to speak to them face to face, and also refused to give the representatives their names. When one representative tried to take a photo of the team on his cellphone, he was stopped.

The workers claimed that a Lonmin representative was in the Nyala as part of the negotiating team, but the police later denied this. The representatives informed the negotiating team that they want their employer to meet with them at the koppie; however, if their boss couldn’t come to them at the koppie to talk, they would be willing to go to him. The police left and the workers thought their request would finally be presented to Lonmin and the situation resolved, but nothing ever came of this meeting.

Meanwhile Lonmin executives met with Lt Gen Mirriam Zukiswa Mbombo, the provincial police chief. According to a transcript of this meeting, Barnard Mokwena, Lonmin executive vice president, stated that the company’s priority wasn’t negotiating with the miners. Instead, they wanted to get people arrested.

Mbombo seemed to agree, encouraging the company to take a hard line. The police chief declared that the strikers would be given a chance to surrender their weapons but, if that didn’t work, things would escalate, her exact words being: “Then it is blood.” She stated that she didn’t want a situation where people died, that’s not why the police was there, but Mokwena didn’t seem to agree.

When discussing the resources available to the police, he remarked that the police snipers were most impressive. What they did seem to agree on though was that the strike needed to end as soon as possible.

15 August

On Wednesday afternoon, the president of NUM, Senzeni Zokwana arrived at the koppie in a Nyala. Like the police negotiator the day before, Zokwana also refused to leave the safety of the Nyala; apparently he was afraid of his own members. All he had to say was that the strikers needed to go back to work and there was nothing else to discuss. To no-one’s surprise, he was ignored.

Not long after Zokwana left, the president of the AMCU, Joseph Mathunjwa, arrived in his own car, accompanied by a police Nyala. He was more sympathetic to the strikers than Zokwana. He hadn’t been able to get a proper meeting with Lonmin, but he assured the assembled workers that he would try again the next day.

However, he informed the workers that a Lonmin executive had told him that if the workers disarmed and returned to work, Lonmin would open negotiations. The workers told him that they would think about it and, according to some reports, Mathunjwa left the koppie feeling optimistic that things would be resolved soon.

On Wednesday, the Minister for Mineral Resources, Susan Shabangu, went on the radio, declaring the conflict to be a wage dispute and urging both the unions and Lonmin management to come to the table and reach a settlement. On the same day, Cyril Ramaphosa sent an email to the Chief Commercial Officer of Lonmin, Albert Jamieson, assuring him that he would explain to Shabangu that the events unfolding at the mine wasn’t a labor dispute but criminal and should be handled accordingly. In a follow-up email, he later stated that Shabangu had promised to convince the cabinet, President, and Minister of Police, Nathi Mthethwa to ‘act in a more pointed way.’

The intervention of Ramaphosa was significant. Ramaphosa, who was elected president of South Africa in 2018, was a skilled negotiator and quite possibly the one man who could’ve brought everyone to the table and resolved the dispute without any more bloodshed. One of the founding members of Cosatu and NUM in the 1980s and a member of the ANC, he was considered a hero of the anti-apartheid struggle for freedom, and one of the contributors to the new South African constitution. However, Ramaphosa had done well for himself since 1994.

By 2012, through his company, Shanduka, Ramaphosa was worth $700 million. Shanduka held 9% shares in Lonmin and Ramaphosa served on the board as a non-executive member. While he was living in luxury, the people who voted for the ANC and put him in a position of power were living in shacks without water and electricity.

Considering his position in the company, and the respect he’d earned for his activism work in the Apartheid years, Ramaphosa was a powerful man with serious influence and in the perfect position to negotiate as he was trusted and respected by all parties involved – the workers, the unions, the government and the company itself. However, by declaring the strike a criminal act, he made it very clear where his priorities lie.

That evening, a meeting of the National Management Forum of the South African Police was held in Johannesburg. The meeting was informed of the AMCU leader’s minor success and the possibility that matters might be resolved peacefully after all. However, according to the minutes of the meeting, the decision was made that the strikers had to be disarmed, and the strike needed to end; extra resources would be made available to achieve this. These extra resources included paramilitary police units, 4000 rounds of live ammunition and mortuary vans for at least 16 bodies.

No mention was made of arranging for ambulances. Mbombo immediately called two Lonmin executives. There was no need to negotiate – the police was ready to step in and end the strike.

16 August – The Day of the Massacre

On Thursday morning, police reinforcements, including extra police units and trailers carrying barbed wire arrived at Marikana. The original plan was to surround the koppie and demand the workers lay down their arms and leave the koppie one by one. Should this fail, the police would enact the tactical option – disarm the workers by force. The disarming process would be conducted by armed Special Paramilitary Police Units instead of the units tasked with public order.

Joseph Mathunjwa tried to meet with Lonmin executives to find a way forward, but he hit a brick wall. Unlike Lonmin management, Mathunjwa was unaware of the police meeting and the decisions that had been made in Johannesburg the night before. Mbombo wasn’t available to speak to him and Lonmin executives refused to meet with him. At around 9h30 am, the strikers at the koppie were waiting for Mathunjwa to return so they could give him their answer, but he was busy trying, and failing, to meet with executives, so he never showed up.

Meanwhile, Mbombo was holding a press conference, declaring to the country, and the world at large: “we are ending the strike today.”

At around 10h30 am, some of the striking workers on the koppie noticed the police rolling out barbed wire in front of the koppie. The barbed wire was only supposed to be deployed later, discreetly, to prevent the workers from moving into police lines and attacking them, once they were surrounded and the demand to disarm had been made. The workers, who didn’t like being closed in like cattle, yelled at the police to take the wire away.

At around 3h30 that afternoon, Mathunjwa finally arrived at the koppie, without a police escort this time, and told workers that Lonmin representatives never showed for their meeting. He was trying, but he wasn’t getting anywhere, and by now it was clear that something big was about to go down. He begged the striking workers to disarm and leave the koppie, at one point falling to his knees, making an impassioned plea for the workers to lay down their weapons. He believed that if they remained on the koppie, a lot of people might die.

However, the workers remained resolute. They would stay on the koppie until Lonmin was willing to negotiate with them.

By the time Mathunjwa left the koppie, the assembled crowd was around 3000 strong, spread across Wonderkop koppie, another smaller koppie to the north, and the ground between the two. According to some reports, videos and photos of the scene showed a peaceful gathering with no-one making any threatening moves, but the atmosphere on the ground had turned very hostile between the police and protestors. The protestors insisted it was a peaceful gathering, but the Farlam report, the result of an investigation after the massacre, stated that one or two workers were making inflammatory speeches to the crowd, suggesting that they would resist police attempts at ending the strike, resorting to violence if necessary.

Meanwhile, the police were getting ready. Weapons had been distributed, barbed wire had been reeled out, the media had been moved back behind operational lines and two trucks, one carrying water and another carrying tear gas, had arrived on the scene. However, instead of being in the front lines where you’d expect to find riot control measures, the trucks were right at the back. Nine ambulances had arrived, and three helicopters were circling.

The operation was supposed to get underway at 3h30, but the arrival of Mathunjwa delayed things so the operation only commenced at 3h40. The strike leaders, aware that something bad was about to happen, decided that it was time to leave the koppie and told the striking workers to walk, not run, as they hadn’t done anything wrong, and some people started leaving the koppie, still armed.

From here, things become a little more chaotic. The police claim that they were being threatened by a militant, armed mob and the events that followed were the police defending themselves. The protestors claim that they were attempting to leave the koppie peacefully but were prevented from doing so. Despite a lot of footage from the media and eyewitness accounts from people on the ground, including strikers, police, and media onlookers, it’s hard to find a clear, objective account of what exactly happened.

Every piece written about the event is either biased in favour of the protestors or in favour of the police. What we do know is that there were two scenes of engagement between the protestors and the police.

The first engagement occurred on Wonderkop koppie, the original koppie the protestors had been occupying for the last five days. Police surrounded the koppie, repositioned armoured vehicles and laid down some more barbed wire to prevent the armed workers from leaving the koppie as they were trying to make their way over the veld to Nkaneng. Meanwhile, a smaller group had broken away and was trying to leave through a gap between some barbed wire and a kraal, a rudimentary animal enclosure, at the base of the koppie.

However, the gap was soon blocked by Nyalas, leaving the workers with nowhere to go. Effectively, the striking workers were now trapped.

According to the police, at this point, there was the sound of gunfire from the crowd; believing they were being shot at, the commanding officer gave the order for non-lethal crowd control, using tear gas and stun grenades. However, investigations later revealed that a single shot was fired by one striking worker. The police response to a single gunshot was to open fire on a panicking crowd with military grade automatic weapons, ignoring the means of non-lethal crowd control, like water cannons, they had at their disposal.

According to witnesses, there were no warning shots, and within seconds, seven workers lay dead, shot while running away. Another group of five men were gunned down, crushed against the kraal at the base of the koppie, as if cornered with no way to escape. Eight more workers were killed in various locations around the koppie, bringing the death toll for the first scene to strikers: 20 and police: 0.

Footage of the massacre shows people running away, with their weapons down, not threatening the police, simply trying to get away from the bullets; however, the police just kept firing.

The second engagement occurred at another smaller koppie, around 300m west of the first scene, called Klein Kopje at the time. Today it’s also known as Killing Koppie. Once the chaos erupted at scene one, people ran to the smaller koppie to hide from the police, but they were surrounded by additional paramilitary police units and three armoured vehicles. One worker who survived the koppie claimed that if you stopped to put your hands up, you got shot.

Other witnesses who survived reported police brutality – workers were disarmed and then speared by the police. All in all, 14 people died while trying to get away. Since these victims were running away and posing no threat to the police, it’s hard not to consider what happened at the Killing Koppie as cold-blooded murder.

What was supposed to be a labour protest had turned into a war zone with armoured vehicles, stun grenades, tear gas, water cannons, and helicopters circling the scene above while the police were firing into a panicking crowd. Police insisted that they used rubber bullets; those on the receiving end claims this is a lie. Mgcineni Noki, better known as Mambush, who had stepped up as a leader in the protest, asking for a living wage, died with 14 bullets in his face, neck and legs. He didn’t have a gun.

When the police finally stopped shooting, over 600 rounds had been fired into the crowd in response to one shot fired by the workers. 34 people were dead and 78 had been severely wounded. Witnesses claimed that the police didn’t provide medical assistance to injured workers at the scene, and at least one worker could possibly have been saved had paramedics been able to reach him. To add insult to injury, 259 people were arrested on various charges such as causing the deaths of their colleagues. As for the people firing the automatic weapons – not a single police officer has ever been charged.

Aftermath

In the immediate aftermath of the massacre, South African President at the time, Jacob Zuma, defended the actions of the police, stating that those at Marikana had killed people and the police were doing their jobs. However, with the world looking at South Africa in horror, Zuma quickly changed his tune, and appointed the Farlam Commission, chaired by retired judge Ian Farlam, to investigate the massacre to determine what went wrong on that fateful day.

The Farlam Commission cost the country R154 million ($9 million), and basically showed that everyone was at fault. Lonmin failed to provide housing as promised by its Social Labour Plan leading to anger and dissatisfaction among the workers. NUM failed to engage with its members and step in when matters started spiraling out of control, and neither Lonmin nor NUM made much of an effort to resolve the situation.

The Police came out looking the worst with the commission finding that the police response was disproportionate to the perceived threat, and the conduct of those in charge was wrong, negligent and contrary to the law and policies they were meant to uphold. Many of the dead and wounded miners were found to have gunshot wounds in the head and back, so it appears no attempt was made to ‘aim low’ in order to avoid casualties and people were shot while running away. Photos taken at the scene, by the police themselves, show weapons being planted on the bodies of deceased miners, presumably to further justify the self-defense claim.

When asked to testify, many senior police officers couldn’t comment because they were facing the wrong direction at crucial moments and didn’t see what was happening. Six senior officers were accused of giving false testimony, and video footage and minutes of meetings that contradicted the story of self-defense were initially covered up but eventually saw the light of day. Some of the highest placed people in the police hierarchy, including National Police Commissioner Riah Phiyega and Lt Gen Mirriam Zukiswa Mbombo were later found to have obscured evidence or just straight-out lied to the commission about the events of that day and the days leading up to it.

When asked about the forum held by the police the night before the massacre, and if the possibility of bloodshed was thoroughly considered, Phiyega told the commission that she wasn’t able to remember ‘those pedantic details.’

However, despite the clear failure by all parties involved to resolve the dispute, the commission still found that the mine workers and their decision to strike outside the legal bargaining framework led to the massacre. The commission’s final report emphasized that the strike was illegal, though this is problematic, and that the workers were breaking the law, specifically the Dangerous Weapons Act, by carrying traditional weapons. The fact that these weapons were carried for self-defense after the workers were attacked by their own union is apparently ignored.

The report also focused on the fact that the mob had used muti and the services of a witch doctor, or traditional healer, to prepare for their confrontation with police. Some reports even claimed that the workers believed the muti would make them invincible, further painting a false picture of a violent, irrational mob that couldn’t be negotiated with.

Ten years after the events at Marikana, only 35 families had been compensated around R70 million ($3.7 million); around 300 miners who were injured that day are still waiting for compensation that could cost the government up to R1 billion ($58 million). Many also feel that Cyril Ramaphosa should be held liable for his role in the events that led up to the massacre. However, he has been cleared of criminal culpability and proving civil liability would be difficult to do.

Over the course of seven days leading up to the massacre, ten people died: six mine workers, two Lonmin security guards, and two police officers. Along with the 34 workers shot down by police, it brings the death toll for Marikana up to 44. 44 People died because Lonmin, with the support of the government, wasn’t willing to offer their employees a livable wage and provide them with basic water and electricity. Despite the Commission determining everyone was at fault, no-one has been held accountable.

Conclusion

More than 10 years after the Marikana massacre, the lives of those working in this dangerous occupation haven’t changed much – the promises of better pay and better working conditions never came to anything, and many feel that no justice was ever served for the 34 men who lost their lives, in front of the whole world, on that August afternoon. A monument was supposed to be erected at the koppie, similar to other sites of remembrance in the country, but, like improved living conditions, the monument also never materialized.

The Marikana Massacre was the most lethal use of force by the police against protestors in decades and has been compared to the Sharpeville massacre in 1960 and the Soweto uprising in 1976 when protestors took to the streets to challenge Apartheid laws. It seems that Mandela’s dream for South Africa has been forgotten and, once again, the police have become a tool of oppression against the working class by those more concerned with growing their wealth, regardless of the cost in human lives. Thirty years after the end of Apartheid, the beloved country is crying once more.

Key Takeaways

• The Marikana Massacre involved the South African police killing 34 mine workers to protect Lonmin’s financial interests.
• Lonmin failed to fulfill promises of better living conditions and wages, leading to worker dissatisfaction.
• The National Union of Mineworkers (NUM) did not support the workers, contributing to the escalation of tensions.
• The police response was disproportionate and resulted in the deaths of 34 workers, with no officers charged.
• Despite the Farlam Commission finding faults with all parties, no one has been held accountable for the massacre.

Frequently Asked Questions

What was the Marikana Massacre?

The Marikana Massacre was a tragic event on August 16, 2012, where South African police opened fire on striking mine workers, killing 34, to protect the financial interests of a British-owned mining company.

Who were the main players involved in the Marikana Massacre?

The main players involved were Lonmin PLC, a British mining company, the labor unions representing the workers, and the workers themselves who initiated the strike.

What were the living conditions of the mine workers in Marikana?

Mine workers lived in informal settlements without basic services like electricity and indoor plumbing. They often had to collect water from communal taps or polluted streams.

What was the role of the labor unions in the Marikana strike?

The National Union of Mineworkers (NUM) was the dominant union but was seen as not protecting the workers’ interests. The Association of Mineworkers and Construction Union (AMCU) was gaining ground but didn’t have enough members to bargain effectively.

What were the workers demanding in their strike?

The workers were demanding a significant increase in their wages, from around $200-$250 to approximately $650, to improve their living conditions and escape the cycle of debt.

What was the timeline of events leading up to the Marikana Massacre?

The strike began on August 10, 2012, with workers gathering at the Wonderkop football stadium. Tensions escalated over the following days, culminating in the police opening fire on the workers on August 16, 2012.

What was the outcome of the Farlam Commission’s investigation?

The Farlam Commission found that all parties involved—Lonmin, the unions, and the police—were at fault. The police response was deemed disproportionate, and many senior officers were found to have given false testimony.

What was the role of Cyril Ramaphosa in the Marikana Massacre?

Cyril Ramaphosa, who later became the President of South Africa, was a non-executive member of Lonmin’s board. He was criticized for his role in urging a hardline approach against the striking workers.

What was the aftermath of the Marikana Massacre?

The aftermath included the Farlam Commission’s investigation, compensation to some families, and ongoing calls for justice. The event highlighted the ongoing struggles of mine workers and the failures of the post-apartheid government.

What were the working conditions for the Rock Drill Operators (RDOs) at the Marikana mine?

The RDOs worked long hours in dangerous conditions, often spending up to 12-13 hours hunched over heavy drills in air filled with dust and chemicals, facing constant threats from falling rocks.

Sources

• Original Into the Shadows video: The Marikana Massacre: South Africa’s Deadly Strike
• Hero image source by A. Bailey / openverse, by-sa.

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