Marikana massacre: charging miners with murder

Supreme irony that the ANC should deploy the very laws that sent their comrades to the gallows.

This week, the Marikana massacre took another, extraordinary twist. The events which saw 34 miners mown down by automatic fire from the police is already, by common consent, a turning point in post-apartheid South Africa. On Thursday the 270 miners currently being held by the police were charged with the murder of their 34 comrades. “Officially the 270 accused were charged with murder,” National Prosecuting Authority spokesman Frank Lesenyego told local journalists. “To confirm, the charges against all 270 are murder and attempted murder,” he said.

It is a supreme irony that a government led by the ANC should even consider turning to what are termed ‘common purpose’ clauses in the Riotous Assembly Act. These were the very laws that sent their comrades to the gallows. Pierre de Vos, the Constitutional law expert at the University of Cape Town described the charges as “bizarre and shocking and represent a flagrant abuse of the criminal justice system in an effort to protect the police and/or politicians like Jacob Zuma.”

Fortunately the Minister of Justice, Jeff Radebe, has intervened, calling on the state prosecutor to explain why he had laid the charges. “There is no doubt that the NPA’s decision has induced a sense of shock, panic and confusion within the members of the community and the general South African public,” Mr Radebe admitted.

While confusion reigns in the state’s approach to Marikana, others have reached firm conclusions. A careful re-construction of the events around the Lonmin mine by the Pulitzer prize winning journalist Greg Marinovich indicated that most miners were not shot while charging at police lines. Rather, they died amid a maze of boulders on another hillock, Small Koppie, apparently shot at close quarters. Others were crushed when they were driven over by police armoured cars.

He quotes one of the surviving miners as saying: “When one of our miners passed a Nyala (armoured car), there was a homeboy (local man) of his from the Eastern Cape inside, and he told him that today was D-day, that they were to come and shoot. He said there was a paper signed allowing them to shoot us.”

This narrative – of a premeditated attempt by the police to confront and kill the defiant miners, who were armed with spears, machetes and a few stolen pistols – was reinforced at a seminar on Thursday at the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg. Professor Peter Alexander, who has been investigating the events said evidence from interviews with the miners was that at least 14 died on Small Koppie. From this position they could have been no threat to the police. “I have very little doubt in my own mind that this was straight-forward murder,” Professor Alexander concluded.

South African journalists are not all convinced. Phillip de Wet, deputy editor of the country’s most respected left-wing newspaper, the Mail & Guardian, was at Marikana when the shooting took place. He believes the evidence can be read to reach other conclusions. De Wet points out that the forensic evidence is not yet available, that the eye-witness accounts could have been embroidered and that the police have yet to make their case. “Could a striker armed with a handgun and holed up among the rocks of the koppie, hostile either in fear or panic or because he believed in protective muti, been shot at and killed before he could fire in return,” he asks.

While the tragedy has been played out in the media, the miners and Lonmin have been holding a series of meetings in an attempt to reach a settlement to their wage dispute. At the same time President Zuma is struggling to gain control of the crisis. He has asked that no one jumps to conclusions about what took place. “Today is not an occasion for blame, finger-pointing or recrimination,” the president declared, when he announced an inquiry into the shooting.

Kicking troublesome situations into the long grass with a Commission of Inquiry might be a convenient political ploy under other circumstances, but it fails to address the urgency of the issue. The former Minister of Intelligence, Ronnie Kasrils, an ANC and Communist Party stalwart, rejected Zuma’s ‘no finger-pointing’ injunction. “In a democracy that has sworn to make such massacres a thing of the past we need to cry out in the name of humanity and justice and demand full transparency and accountability,” he wrote.

Kasrils believes it will be too easy to blame the policemen who opened fire, letting those in authority off the hook. “If we do not point fingers at the right targets, the politicians — who bear executive authority for those who may have given some kind of green light, or by dereliction of responsibility left the police to their own devices — will go unscathed.”

It may be that Marikana points to another, even more disturbing conclusion. Dr Saths Cooper, president of the International Union of Psychological Science, argues that the killings need to be seen against the background of brutality and violence that scars all levels of South African society. From rape to infanticide and inequality, the country tops global charts. “All of this is while we are not at war. But we are at war with ourselves,” Dr Cooper points out.

Martin Plaut is the Africa Editor of BBC World Service News. Who Rules South Africa? by Martin Plaut and Paul Holden is published by Biteback Publishing.

Striking Lonmin mine workers form a group to sing and dance after listening to a report about the state of their wage negotiations. Photograph: Getty Images

Martin Plaut is a fellow at the Institute of Commonwealth Studies, University of London. With Paul Holden, he is the author of Who Rules South Africa?

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Inside a shaken city: "I just want to be anywhere that’s not Manchester”

The morning after the bombing of the Manchester Arena has left the city's residents jumpy.

On Tuesday morning, the streets in Manchester city centre were eerily silent.

The commuter hub of Victoria Station - which backs onto the arena - was closed as police combed the area for clues, and despite Mayor Andy Burnham’s line of "business as usual", it looked like people were staying away.

Manchester Arena is the second largest indoor concert venue in Europe. With a capacity crowd of 18,000, on Monday night the venue was packed with young people from around the country - at least 22 of whom will never come home. At around 10.33pm, a suicide bomber detonated his device near the exit. Among the dead was an eight-year-old girl. Many more victims remain in hospital. 

Those Mancunians who were not alerted by the sirens woke to the news of their city's worst terrorist attack. Still, as the day went on, the city’s hubbub soon returned and, by lunchtime, there were shoppers and workers milling around Exchange Square and the town hall.

Tourists snapped images of the Albert Square building in the sunshine, and some even asked police for photographs like any other day.

But throughout the morning there were rumours and speculation about further incidents - the Arndale Centre was closed for a period after 11.40am while swathes of police descended, shutting off the main city centre thoroughfare of Market Street.

Corporation Street - closed off at Exchange Square - was at the centre of the city’s IRA blast. A postbox which survived the 1996 bombing stood in the foreground while officers stood guard, police tape fluttering around cordoned-off spaces.

It’s true that the streets of Manchester have known horror before, but not like this.

I spoke to students Beth and Melissa who were in the bustling centre when they saw people running from two different directions.

They vanished and ducked into River Island, when an alert came over the tannoy, and a staff member herded them through the back door onto the street.

“There were so many police stood outside the Arndale, it was so frightening,” Melissa told me.

“We thought it will be fine, it’ll be safe after last night. There were police everywhere walking in, and we felt like it would be fine.”

Beth said that they had planned a day of shopping, and weren’t put off by the attack.

“We heard about the arena this morning but we decided to come into the city, we were watching it all these morning, but you can’t let this stop you.”

They remembered the 1996 Arndale bombing, but added: “we were too young to really understand”.

And even now they’re older, they still did not really understand what had happened to the city.

“Theres nowhere to go, where’s safe? I just want to go home,” Melissa said. “I just want to be anywhere that’s not Manchester.”

Manchester has seen this sort of thing before - but so long ago that the stunned city dwellers are at a loss. In a city which feels under siege, no one is quite sure how anyone can keep us safe from an unknown threat

“We saw armed police on the streets - there were loads just then," Melissa said. "I trust them to keep us safe.”

But other observers were less comforted by the sign of firearms.

Ben, who I encountered standing outside an office block on Corporation Street watching the police, was not too forthcoming, except to say “They don’t know what they’re looking for, do they?” as I passed.

The spirit of the city is often invoked, and ahead of a vigil tonight in Albert Square, there will be solidarity and strength from the capital of the North.

But the community values which Mancunians hold dear are shaken to the core by what has happened here.

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