The Sunday Times’ lead story last weekend was an account of life underground at Stilfontein mine by a 35-year-old man who is lucky to be alive. His account is harrowing, to say the least.
Following a court-enforced rescue operation, 78 bodies have been retrieved, together with 246 emaciated survivors. The government had otherwise decided to leave them to their own devices underground until they either all died or somehow found a way out. Its position was generally well-received, if comments on social media and radio talk shows are anything to go by.
Some weeks ago, I discussed the situation with a colleague, who, like many South Africans, had taken a hardline position on the situation on X. Unlike me (I live in Tshwane), he has previously lived in Riverlea, south of Johannesburg. He knows first-hand what life under a crime wave driven by illegal miners is like — unbearable. In fact, the current crisis was precipitated by protests that the government was being too soft on illegal mining in the face of mass shootings, rape and other violent crimes perpetrated by gangs of “zama zamas”.
But as I explained to him then, despite our personal experiences and the public mood, leadership nonetheless demands carefully calibrated views and actions, especially when insufficient information is available. The government failed live up to this demand — fuelling extreme views and multiple layers of frustration.
Despite the horror stories emerging from the depths of Stilfontein mine, public attitudes remain hard and unbothered. The story has, it seems, connected us with the worst angels of our nature. The glee many display in their comments is disturbing but unsurprising.
First, there is general frustration with violent crime in the country. It is so pervasive that millions of people live in fear that they will be mugged, robbed, assaulted or killed for doing what others take for granted in safer societies. Therefore, when the police kill criminals in shoot-outs, this is met with loud cheers.
I also believe that were there to be a referendum about applying the death penalty here, it would be endorsed by a landslide.
Violence, cruelty and callousness become part of daily life, where the default setting changes from blaming perpetrators to blaming the victim.
Second, there is widespread frustration with years of poor immigration management by the government at a time when millions of South Africans are going through a hard time. The fact that many of those who have surfaced from the mine are from neighbouring countries has almost eliminated compassion. South Africans have progressively become xenophobic, often using language that usually precedes violence.
Third, we have in any event become accustomed to mass killings and deaths. Mass killings are now a regular occurrence, while thousands of people die a gruesome death on our roads — not raising an eyebrow. A staggering 1,502 people died on South Africa’s roads during the December holidays. South Africans have already moved on.
The easy thing to do would be to over-moralise the rise of callousness and cruelty, and the inevitable populism, but that would miss the point. What we are witnessing is what happens to broken societies. Violence, cruelty and callousness become part of daily life, where the default setting changes from blaming perpetrators to blaming the victim.
Why did she walk outside at that time knowing she could get raped? Why did she walk alone knowing how bad the mugging has been lately? Why did they go into a mineshaft knowing the law does not allow it? Why did he drive at that time of the night knowing how many drunk drivers there are at that time?
Such an environment produces a leadership culture where political and societal credibility is earned by fuelling the worst instincts in society, worsening the brokenness and making it more difficult to recover. Sometimes this results from shared frustration, while in other cases it is done by opportunistic individuals who see the widespread discontent as an opportunity to rise to the surface.
It is one of the ways in which cruel dictatorships come into being. Considered actions that balance different risks are seen as weak and acting in cahoots with bad elements. Those who advocate for mob justice rise to power and wreak havoc in ways societies later come to regret.
Illegal mining is a complex issue that has given birth to its own economy. As the man who spoke to the Sunday Times explained, the foreigners have the most dangerous and worst-paying jobs. With what I know of mining operations (I worked in the industry for nearly seven years), there are probably more people who have died from underground incidents than we will ever know.
Mines need water, clean air, electricity and safety expertise to become (relatively) safe working environments, which means investing millions in safety. You do not need to be a rocket scientist to understand that criminal syndicates operating illegal mines do not have an incentive to invest in safety mechanisms at all.
Those who say this is artisanal mining and can be turned into a thriving industry are being naïve or dishonest. The deeper you go underground, the hotter and more humid it gets, and the air feels heavy on the lungs. And this is in cases where there are modern mine ventilation systems. How much worse must it be doing the same in dark, unventilated mines where people cook and relieve themselves for weeks on end?
These are inhumane conditions, and our motivation for getting rid of this dangerous method of earning an income must be the need to get rid of illicit economic activity while saving human life.
That said, we must also consider why people leave their families in other countries to earn a pittance in life-threatening conditions and die without their families being able to bury them. It is because of grinding unemployment and poverty in South Africa and the region. These conditions pit the poor against one another in a nearly endless cycle of violence. We cannot continue in this way.
To become a compassionate society, we must recognise that poverty, exclusion and neglect are a form of violence. They produce violence.
Given a choice, most of these people would take a safe job on the surface that enables them to earn a living wage and live with their families. Hunger means they don’t have that luxury, so they resort to criminality.
This is not to say we must fold our arms, but the departure point of leaders in thinking about solutions is always important. Structural problems matter, and when government leaders do not appreciate that the solutions they devise and implement will almost certainly be defective and make things worse.
In this case, President Cyril Ramaphosa has a golden opportunity to announce a step change in how we deal with poor economic growth, education outcomes, unemployment and poverty when he delivers his state of the nation address in early February. That can be followed up with how the fight against organised crime is to be resourced and implemented.
Failure to address the two together will condemn us to being a society that normalises violence, celebrates human suffering and celebrates ministers who are gleeful about unleashing more suffering while criminalising poverty.
• Zibi is an MP and an author of several books on politics, economy and history. He is the national leader of Rise Mzansi
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