EXPLORING THE CONTINUITIES AND DISCONTINUITIES IN SOUTH AFRICAN POLITICAL VIOLENCE: THE SHARPEVILLE, BHISHO AND MARIKANA MASSACRES

BY

MONGEZI MENYE

A TREATISE SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF

MPHIL: CONFLICT TRANSFORMATION AND MANAGEMENT

IN THE

FACULTY OF ARTS

AT THE

NELSON MANDELA UNIVERSITY

2018

PROMOTER: PROFESSOR GAVIN BRADSHAW CO-PROMOTER: MS DANIELLE BARNES

DECLARATION

NAME: MONGEZI MENYE

STUDENT NUMBER: 213478064

QUALIFICATION: MPHIL: CONFLICT TRANSFORMATION AND MANAGEMENT

TITLE OF PROJECT: EXPLORING THE CONTINUITIES AND DISCONTINUITIES IN SOUTH AFRICAN POLITICAL VIOLENCE: THE SHARPEVILLE, BHISHO AND MARIKANA MASSACRES

In accordance with Rule G5.6.3, I hereby declare that the above-mentioned thesis is my own work and that it has not previously been submitted for assessment to another University or for another qualification.

i ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to express my deepest gratitude to Advocate Oliver Josie for persistently encouraging me to further my studies. If it was not for his inspirational leadership, I wouldn’t have embarked on this challenging journey at this point in my life.

I am also thankful to my Supervisors, Professor Gavin Bradshaw and Ms. Danielle Barnes for their patience, guidance and knowledge of the subject matter, which assisted me enormously throughout the study.

This was indeed a long and tiresome journey which I would not have completed without the encouragement and support of the following people that are close to my heart:

 My wife, Vuyokazi Menye, for her love, prayers, motivation and unconditional support; and

 My children, Lisolethu and Lunathi for their interminable inspiration and understanding my long periods of absence from home in pursuit of my dreams.

This Treatise is unreservedly dedicated to my late mother, Gasele Menye who took the lead to heaven before the completion of this work. I will forever be indebted to you MaNkomo.

ii

ABSTRACT

This treatise focuses on the underlying factors of political violence before and after the end of apartheid in South Africa. Its emphasis is on the continuities and discontinuities of political violence with primary attention on the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana Massacres. The treatise deals with the political and socio-economic factors that has led to the aforementioned massacres. This include the relative political, social and ideological strengths of differing political groups and their conflict resolution mechanism.

The widespread and recurrent political violence in South Africa has been the connerstone of this study. The analysis established that the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana Masacres had unwarranted consequences in South Africa. The understanding of current and past political violence is a fundamental initiative. This helps to clarify past political violence issues that were not addressed properly and are now resurfacing in a different form. The failure to address the root causes of political violence is the main challenge that has to be dealt with accordingly by government.

The treatise also outlined the necessity and urgency of a new research on the training, control and command of members of the South African Police Services to ensure that where the police deal with members of the public engaged in legitimate democratic protest. The escalation of violence is defused and the official response to such violence is consistent with the provisions embedded in the South African Constitution.

Keywords: Political Violence; Conflict Resolution; Social Conflict; Massacre; Apertheid; Socio-Economic.

iii TABLE OF CONTENTS

DECLARATION ...... i

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ...... ii

ABSTRACT ...... iii

LIST OF FIGURES...... ix

CHAPTER 1

AN OVERVIEW OF THE STUDY

1.1 INTRODUCTION ...... 1

1.2 BACKGROUND TO THE STUDY ...... 1

1.3 THE RESEARCH PROBLEM ...... 4

1.4 PURPOSE OF THE STUDY ...... 6

1.5 JUSTIFICATION OF THE STUDY ...... 6

1.6 MAIN RESEARCH QUESTION ...... 7

1.6.1 Specific Research Questions ...... 7

1.7 THE RESEARCH OBJECTIVES ...... 7

1.8 SCOPE AND STUDY AREA OF THE STUDY ...... 8

1.8.1 Sharpeville ...... 8

1.8.2 BHISHO ...... 9

1.8.3 Marikana ...... 10

1.9 LIMITATIONS OF THE STUDY ...... 11

1.10 ORGANIZATION OF THE STUDY ...... 12

1.11 CONCLUSION ...... 13

iv CHAPTER 2

LITERATURE REVIEW

2.1 INTRODUCTION ...... 14

2.2 POLITICAL VIOLENCE ...... 14

2.3 SOCIAL CONFLICT AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE ...... 18

2.4 SOCIAL CONFLICT ...... 19

2.5 THE SOCIOLOGY OF SOCIAL CONFLICT ...... 20

2.5.1 Max Weber’s Sociology of Social Conflict ...... 20

2.5.2 Ralph Dahrendorf’s Sociology of Social Conflict ...... 21

2.5.3 Karl Marx’s Sociology of Social Conflict ...... 22

2.6 CONFLICT AND VIOLENCE: CAUSES AND DYNAMICS ...... 23

2.7 COLLECTIVE VIOLENCE ...... 25

2.8 POLITICAL VIOLENCE IN SOUTH AFRICA ...... 26

2.8.1 Political Violence Before 1990 ...... 26

2.8.2 Post 1990 Trends ...... 27

2.8.3 The Truth and Reconciliation Commission as a Response to Institutional Violence ...... 28

2.8.4 Amnesty Provisions in Terms of Transitional Justice ...... 28

2.9 CONCLUSION ...... 29

CHAPTER 3

RESEARCH DESIGN AND METHODOLOGY

3.1 INTRODUCTION ...... 30

3.2 QUALITATIVE COMPARATIVE RESEARCH METHOD ...... 30

3.3 CASE STUDY APPROACH ...... 31

3.4 QUALITATIVE CASE STUDY DESIGN ...... 31

v 3.5 DATA COLLECTION TECHNIQUE AND PROCEDURE ...... 31

3.6 DATA ANALYSIS PROCEDURE ...... 32

3.7 ETHICAL CONSIDERATIONS ...... 32

3.8 CONCLUSION ...... 33

CHAPTER 4

NARRATIVES OF THE SHARPVILLE, BHISHO AND MARIKANA MASSACRES IN SOUTH AFRICA

4.1 INTRODUCTION ...... 34

4.2 THE SHARPEVILLE MASSACRE (21 MARCH 1960) ...... 36

4.2.1 The Report of the J. P. Wessels Commission ...... 40

4.2.2 Photographs of the Sharpeville Massacre ...... 42

4.3 THE BHISHO MASSACRE (07 SEPTEMBER 1990) ...... 44

4.3.1 The Goldstone Commission Report ...... 47

4.3.2 Photographs of the Bhisho Massacre ...... 50

4.4 THE MARIKANA MASSACRE (16 AUGUST 2012) ...... 51

4.4.1 The Farlam Commission Report ...... 59

4.4.2 The Photographs of the Marikana Massacre ...... 63

4.5 CONCLUSION ...... 64

CHAPTER 5

PRESENTATION OF FINDINGS AND ANALYSIS

5.1 INTRODUCTION ...... 66

5.2 THEME 1: APARTHEID STATE’S COERCIVE USE OF POWER AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE ...... 66

vi 5.3 THEME 2: INSTITUTIONALISATION OF POLITICAL VIOLENCE DURING APARTHEID ...... 68

5.4 THEME 3: RACIAL INEQUALITIES AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE DURING APARTHEID ...... 70

5.5 THEME 4: WHITE MONOPOLY CAPITAL AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE DURING APARTHEID ...... 71

5.6 THEME 5: PROTEST MOVEMENTS AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE IN THE APARTHEID ERA ...... 73

5.7 THEME 6: CRIMINALISATION OF PROTEST AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE IN THE POST-APARTHEID ERA ...... 74

5.8 THEME 7: THE NARRATIVE OF THE RAINBOW NATION AND ECONOMIC INEQUALITIES ...... 76

5.9 THEME 8: POST-APARTHEID INEQUALITIES AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE ...... 77

5.10 THEME 9: NEO-LIBERALISM AND POST-APARTHEID VIOLENCE ...... 79

5.11 THEME 10: THE NARRATIVE OF THE THIRD FORCE IN POST- APARTHEID AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE ...... 81

5.12 CONCLUSION ...... 82

CHAPTER 6

CONCLUSION, SUMMARY AND RECOMMENDATIONS

6.1 INTRODUCTION ...... 84

6.2 SUMMARY OF FINDINGS ...... 84

6.2.1 Sharpeville and Bhisho Massacre Findings ...... 85

6.2.2 Marikana Massacre Findings ...... 86

6.3 RECOMMENDATIONS ...... 87

6.3.1 Sharpeville and Bhisho Massacres ...... 88

6.3.2 Marikana Massacre ...... 88

vii 6.4 AREAS OF FURTHER STUDY ...... 90

6.5 CONCLUDING REMARKS ...... 90

REFERENCES ...... 93

viii

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 1.1: Sharpeville Map in South Africa ...... 9

Figure 1.2: Bhisho Map in South Africa ...... 10

Figure 1.3: Marikana Map in South Africa ...... 11

Figure 4.1: Protesters Beaten and Killed ...... 42

Figure 4.2: Killed Protestors as a Result of the Massacre ...... 42

Figure 4.3: Protesters Killed after the Shooting ...... 43

Figure 4.4: Mass Funeral of Killed Protestors ...... 43

Figure 4.5: Protesters ...... 50

Figure 4.6: Ciskei Defence Force Soldiers on the day of the massacre ...... 50

Figure 4.7: Protesters shot and killed ...... 51

Figure 4.8: The Protesting Mineworkers ...... 63

Figure 4.9: The Police and the Dead Mineworkers (A) ...... 64

Figure 4.10: The Police and the Dead Mineworkers (B) ...... 64

ix CHAPTER 1

AN OVERVIEW OF THE STUDY

1.1 INTRODUCTION

South Africa’s image as a political and economic driving force in the African continent has masked the extent of political violence in the country. The majority of the Black population have experienced the most extreme and repugnant form of repression by White rulers in South Africa. The Afrikaner-led National Party instituted a racial segregation policy that was known as “Apartheid” in 1948. Citizens were divided in terms of colour (race) in terms of this policy. Discrimination in the country extended to all aspects of life, including job opportunities, education and health. This discrimination led to the worsening condition of most of the Black community (Makina, 2008). Women, the disabled, the elderly and children were the ones most affected by poverty within the Black community.

This chapter problematized and explored the underlying political and socio-economic circumstances that led to the Sharpeville and Bhisho massacres before 1994. It also aimed to explore the underlying factors that led to the Marikana massacre, 18 years after a democratically elected government came into leadership in South Africa. Moreover, the study provided an overview of the three case studies, namely the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres with reference to the concept of political violence. The background, research problem, aims and objectives will be critically discussed, with the inclusion of limitations, challenges and ethical issues. Lastly, the significance of the study and scope of the study area will be presented.

1.2 BACKGROUND TO THE STUDY

In the 1990s, political violence became a dominant and pervasive feature of South African politics and society. In various ways, this was a complex and inconsistent development. The violence was central to the national scene, with open and dramatic conflicts leaving large numbers killed and injured (e.g. in populist revolts against the apartheid state, or conflicts between supporters of the African National Congress (ANC) and Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP), but it was also multiplied in marginal contexts, largely unnoticed by anyone except those directly concerned, such as in local disputes or faction fights.

1 It was surprising that the violence was strikingly absent in some contexts where it was most feared and predicted (e.g. by Blacks against Whites), while it erupted elsewhere in unexpected contexts and forms (e.g. the revival and use of traditional “cultural weapons”); often the very agents of this new violence have been difficult to identify and its purposes have been hotly contested and led to allegations of the presence of a “force”.

Bornman (1998: 349) states that the understanding of South African political violence has become both an urgent challenge and a special problem. South Africa’s negotiated transition to democracy was widely prefigured as a miracle. This perception was largely based on the earlier belief that apartheid South Africa was heading for a violent end. The political violence before 1994 contributed much to this perception. Bornman (1998: 350) further asserts that the root cause of political violence in South Africa has to be located within the social matrix and the long history of oppression, poverty and exploitation in the country. Central to this was the fact that from 1948, the apartheid government denied the majority of South Africans access to central political authority and entrenched racially based social inequality. The state used vertical institutional violence to maintain this inequality, racial superiority and social control.

Jenkins (1996: 471) describes apartheid as a system comprising of two ideological themes of white supremacy that attempted to guarantee racial peace and maintain a pure white race. The first theme was segregation as a means of domination. The second was segregation as trusteeship, which allowed Africans to express themselves completely within their own communities. Apartheid may thus be seen as a system of institutionalised violence in that its success could only be achieved by repressive means of law enforcement.

In the face of ongoing repression and the blockage of all legal and peaceful channels of protest, the African National Congress (ANC) and other liberation movements resorted to the armed struggle (Orkin, 1992: 642). This reactive violence, coupled with continued repressive violence by the state, resulted in the growth of political violence over the next three decades, culminating in the intensified political violence of the 1980s.

The period between 1990 and 1994 was marked by unprecedented inter- and intra - community violence in South Africa. Simpson and Rauch (1992: 212) argue that this violence was facilitated by the deregulation of the overly repressive forms of social

2 control that had characterised the apartheid state. They further argued that competition within impoverished communities over access to scarce resources, also triggered and sustained violence during the transition. The new South African government has inherited a range of state institutions largely intact from the old regime, as a consequence of the negotiated settlement. These institutions, particularly those of the criminal justice system, have been inherited along with popular mistrust (Simpson and Rauch, 1992).

The 1994 election heralded the so-called transition to democracy in South Africa. Although political violence decreased significantly, other types of violence, particularly violent crimes, continued to increase. Political violence also continued, albeit at lower levels than during the negotiations. This research is being undertaken to analyse political violence in the pre- and post-1994 South African elections, in order to explore the continuities and discontinuities of political violence. It examines how the past continues to have a negative effect on the trends of violence that define post-apartheid South Africa. The Sharpeville massacre (21 March 1960), Bhisho massacre (7 September 1992) and the Marikana massacre (16 August 2012) will be analysed in this research.

The challenge of understanding current and past political violence is a very important initiative. The difficulties in making sense of the continuities and discontinuities of political violence may be due to stereotypes that have been caused by structures that are features of the past and their effect on the present. Equally, these difficulties of understanding the present may, and perhaps should, bring us to reconsider some of the assumptions in our understanding of the history of political violence, which was not dealt with accordingly in the past.

It is for these reasons that this research is motivated by the need to explore the underlying political and socio-economic circumstances that led to the Sharpeville and Bhisho massacres before 1994. It also aims to explore the underlying factors that led to the Marikana massacre, after 18 years of the leadership of a democratically elected government in South Africa.

1.3 THE RESEARCH PROBLEM

The problem that is being investigated is the underlying factors of political violence before and after the end of apartheid in South Africa. The research will also unpack

3 the relationship between social structure and political violence. This can include the relative political, social and ideological strengths of opposing political groups and the functionality of violence to these groups. Finally, the very process of transition, whether through negotiated settlement or through violent revolution, will fundamentally have an impact on the nature and extent of violence after such a transition.

The political situation in South Africa since the turn of the 20th century, allowed for the official grouping of the inhabitants of the country into Whites and non-Whites. Blacks, Indians and Coloureds were all regarded as non-Whites; a name tag that carried a lot of political connotations. The initial exclusion of the so-called non-Whites from the Union government, had a negative impact on their daily activities. Even though each non-White community maintained its own unique culture and religion, the common element of political exclusion (oppression) brought them together against their common enemy, the White government. Legislation by the White government, for example, which reserved approximately 87% of the land for Whites and denied non- Whites numerous basic human rights, prepared fertile ground for and entrenched a culture of protest and defiance in the latter.

The non-Whites resisted the discrimination that they encountered, by organizing themselves into movements or organizations that challenged the White government. The resistance by Blacks convinced the Whites that they had to tighten their grip and to adopt a never-let-go attitude. When either government leaders or leaders of resistance movements passed away, their contributions were judged on the basis of how much they did for ‘their people’, which would unfold in their obituaries. Though political leaders would always remain public figures, it cannot be argued that their funerals just had to be politicised. They were, first and foremost, members of their families, operating within a given community and culture. Therefore, the wishes or rituals of their communities carried weight.

Consequently, all the challenges faced by Blacks eventually led to the political violence that resulted in massacres before and after the end of the apartheid regime. This research is focusing on continuities and discontinuities in pre- and post-1994 South Africa, dealing specifically with three case studies, being the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres.

However, it is interesting to note that the Marikana massacre unfolded due to labour unrest. The Marikana experience demonstrated the injustice against and the

4 dehumanising exploitation of workers in the platinum mining industry. The British company Lonmin became an extraordinary wealth generator and the company remains adept at working in high risk environments. However, the pattern of forming partnerships with political elites, while continuing to profit from cheap labour generated by rural people, contributed to inequalities that strain a new democracy like South Africa.

The mining sector has yet to come to terms with its history of the migrant labour system. Modernising trends have halted the practice of recruiting workers en masse and housing them in dehumanizing single sex hostels. However, the new migratory labour practice that is evolving, is more individualistic and includes contract workers. These new labour practices result in loss of bargaining power and loss of job security amongst the poorest paid workforce in the global mining industries.

The need to build proper family housing remains a key agenda item for unions. Improving living conditions around the mines for workers places a concomitant priority on government to develop new towns around the mines, provide housing, social infrastructure for health, education and for business development. Marikana demonstrated the unyielding passion of exploited workers fighting for their rights to extend to all aspects of their lives: safety on the job, reasonable levels of pay given the inherent value in the commodity they are mining, proper housing and facilities, and job security. Social and economic development in South Africa continues to evolve and the media has an important role to play, by keeping communities engaged in societal goals, informed. The media has reflected that pay levels in the South African mining sector are among the lowest in the world. However, compared to other sectors in South Africa, Marikana mineworkers received better wages, especially since the increases they received. According to Taal, Patel, and Elsley (2012: 3), the LRS (Labor Research Service), Actual Wage Rates Database shows that in 2012, the median minimum wage was R4 000 a month with variations between sectors, whereas Marikana mineworkers received around R4 743 a month, which was already higher in comparison to what other laborers earned (Taal et al., 2012). Though patchy in their ability to capture the Marikana dynamics, the economic narrative that the media projected since the shootings, has brought to light the cost-cutting methods of employment at the mine, using contractors and the shelling out of cash grants to avoid

5 housing workers properly. Both are examples of poor practices that provide little security in what should be a prestigious industry.

1.4 PURPOSE OF THE STUDY

The aim of the research is to investigate the political violence that led to massacres before and after the end of the apartheid regime. This research is focusing on continuities and discontinuities in pre- and post-1994 South Africa, dealing specifically with three case studies, being the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres. The research will assist the policy makers in making informed decisions, geared towards the creation of peace and stability in South Africa.

In Africa, there has been a lot of continuity from colonial to post-colonial political violence. The reasons for this continuity were the weak nature of many post-colonial states, constitutions that preserved existing institutions and laws and the extent and influence of European powers. Recommendations from the current study could contribute to policy formulation and improvement in discontinuities in political violence.

1.5 JUSTIFICATION OF THE STUDY

The endemic and perennial political violence in South Africa is the premise of this study. Bornman et al. (1998: 238) points out that the escalation of this political violence dotted around the country, is triggered by the socio-economic and political factors entrenched in the racial divide. This is allegedly attributed to the incumbent government that has taken too long to orchestrate a structural, economic transformation in 1994 when the Apartheid regime was dislodged from the throne.

Despite the fact that in the aforementioned cases, there was direct violence characterised by bloodshed, there is currently structural violence that manifests itself in abject poverty, racial discrimination, unemployment and unequal distribution of resources in South Africa. Compounding the above issues, are the tensions and conflicts that are always manifesting in parliament between political parties, while the general populace expects the lawmakers to come up with appropriate decisions that foster development in the country. However, contrary to that, more wars of words and conflicts continue to rock the country.

6 1.6 MAIN RESEARCH QUESTION

The central research question of this study is as follows:

What are the continuities and discontinuities of political violence in South Africa in respect of the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres?

1.6.1 SPECIFIC RESEARCH QUESTIONS

The specific research questions of this study are:

1. What is the nature of political violence (continuities and discontinuities) in South Africa?

2. What are the socio-economic and political factors that led to the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres?

3. To what extent are these three massacres or experiences of violence similar to one another?

4. What factors led the escalation of the violence and what kind of impact did this incident leave behind?

1.7 THE RESEARCH OBJECTIVES

The research objectives are:

1. To identify the continuities and discontinuities of political violence in South Africa pre- and post-apartheid;

2. To examine the underlying socio-economic and political factors that led to the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres;

3. To explore the common denominators among the massacres; and

4. To explore factors that led to the escalation of the violence and the kind of impact left behind by the incident.

1.8 SCOPE AND STUDY AREA OF THE STUDY

This study will be carried out in South Africa with special reference to the three political violence cases that occurred in three areas, namely: Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana. Thus, the scope of the study involves the following three cases and the

7 researcher plans to present substantial information based on a rigorous comparative analysis of the events that transpired in these areas.

1.8.1 SHARPEVILLE

Sharpeville is a township situated between the two large industrial cities of Vanderbijlpark and Vereeniging in southern Gauteng. Sharpeville is one of the oldest of six townships in the Vaal Triangle. It was named after John Lillie Sharpe who came to South Africa from Glasgow, Scotland, as secretary of Stewarts & Lloyds. Sharpe was elected to the Vereeniging Town Council in 1932 and held the position of mayor from 1934 to 1937.

The main reason for the establishment of Sharpeville was the relocation of people from “Top location" to an area away from Vereeniging because it was felt that Black people were living too close to Vereeniging for comfort. Unfortunately, because the project was only intended to relocate residents of "Top location", and not to house additional people, it did not alleviate the housing shortage. What was planned as a five-year resettlement project beginning in 1935, took in fact, 20 years. In 1941, 16,000 people still lived in "Top Location". The building of the houses only started in 1942. A sub-economic housing scheme was used for Sharpeville. Water was available at no charge but 14 houses shared one tap and there were two bathing complexes in the township. By 1946, some of the houses had their own taps and bathrooms. The township was first called "Sharpe Native Township" but it changed to Sharpeville in the 1950s. Below is a map showing the location of Sharpeville.

8

Source: Bornman (1998:120) Figure 1.1: Sharpeville Map in South Africa

1.8.2 BHISHO

Bhisho is the capital of the Eastern Cape Province in South Africa. The Provincial legislature and many other government departments are headquartered in the town. Bhisho is the Xhosa word for buffalo, which is also the name of the river that runs through this town. The town is part of the Buffalo City Metropolitan Municipality of the Eastern Cape, the urban agglomeration around East London. Under its former name of Bhisho, the town was the capital of the former Bantustan of Ciskei. Ciskei was nominally granted independence in 1981, although this was never recognized outside South Africa, and it was reincorporated into South Africa on 12 August 1994. During its time as a Bantustan capital, Bhisho signed a sister-city agreement with the settlement of Ariel in the Israeli-occupied West Bank.

On 7 September 1992, Bhisho became the scene of what is known as the Bhisho massacre, when about 80, 000 –100,000 people marched on Bhisho, calling for the dismantling of Ciskei, which still maintained a measure of independence, and removal of the homeland's leader Brigadier Oupa Gqozo. The Ciskei Defence Force opened fire, shooting dead 28 or 29 people, and wounding 100. The massacre came at a

9 critical time when negotiations towards democracy were under way. Below is a map indicating the location of Bhisho in South Africa.

Source: Bornman (1998:135) Figure 1.2: Bhisho Map in South Africa

1.8.3 MARIKANA

Marikana is a town in Rustenburg local municipality, Bojanala Platinum District Municipality, a district in the North West province of South Africa. The town was laid out in 1870 on the farm Rooikoppes, and the settlement later expanded into seven White-owned farms. In 1933, the Buffelspoort Dam was built, allowing the local farmers to irrigate their crops. The farming community grew in the 1960s on the back of lucrative tobacco farming, but other diversified farming practices i.e. cattle, maize, chillies, paprika, soya, lucerne and sunflower, amongst the main groups, were the main economic drivers of the area. In the 1970s, mining was introduced and eventually grew to become the main industry in the region. The main mining activities are PGMs (Platinum Group Metals) and chrome. Since the introduction of mining activities, the informal and formal population experienced a growth explosion. The Marikana miners' strike of 10 August 2012 and the subsequent killing of 34 workers by police, made headlines in the international media. Below is the map showing the location of Marikana in South Africa.

10

Source: Frankel (2001: 201) Figure 1.3: Marikana Map in South Africa

The violence that unfolded during these events, was documented in various publications, which this study used to extract its information, in order to analyse this political violence. The sensitivity of the socio-economic and political issues that orchestrated these three massacres, caused the researcher to decide on applying documentary analysis only as a data collection tool for this study. The study would have become more robust and reliable if in-depth interviews were feasible in a study of this nature. However, due to the ethical considerations and sensitivity involved in conducting interviews, this research was predominantly qualitative, desk-top research, with references to the three cases.

1.9 LIMITATIONS OF THE STUDY

According to Denscombe (2003: 39), the case study method is vulnerable to criticism in respect of the generalizations made from the findings. The boundaries of the case study can prove hard to define in a clear-cut and absolute fashion. This poses a difficulty in terms of deciding what sources of data to incorporate in the case study and which to exclude. In addition, negotiating access to case study settings and information can be a demanding part of the research process. Regarding this limitation, the study focused on three cases that boosted its reliability and validity.

11 The researcher also acknowledges the possibility of bias because of the racial divisions in South Africa. To avoid this limitation, the researcher uses the available documents which were written by both Blacks and Whites, airing their views about the underlying issues of these massacres. The use of three cases located in different parts of South Africa was also a potential difficulty to this study. Regarding this challenge, the researcher refrained from using interviews that would require him to visit those places; rather he resorted to use documentary analysis as a data collection technique.

1.10 ORGANIZATION OF THE STUDY

This study is presented in six chapters, as follows:

Chapter One: This chapter presented the overview of the three case studies, being the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres. It has also outlined the broad concept of political violence in the South African context. The background, research problem, aims and objectives were critically discussed, with the inclusion of limitations, challenges and ethical issues. In addition, this chapter includes the statement of the problem that forms the hub of the study, followed by key objectives and scope thereof. Lastly the significance of the research is presented.

Chapter Two: This chapter reviews the literature pertinent to this study, with an analysis of the current literature gathered from various studies on political violence in South Africa and elsewhere. The gaps in the reviewed literature were assessed to provide a perceptual understanding of the value that this study would add to the existing knowledge. A theoretical framework for the research is presented to glean the main variables of thereof and show how they relate to define the study problem.

Chapter Three: This chapter presents the methodology used in gathering data, including the research design and area of the study, approaches used in selecting respondents, as well as methods of data collection and processing. Also included are measures taken to ensure that the data meets the minimum quality standards and that the study takes cognizance of national and international ethical considerations.

Chapter Four: This chapter focuses on a comprehensive profile and relevant literature regarding the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana Massacres, and provides the rationale behind the research.

12 Chapter Five: This chapter discusses the main findings of the study, presented along the four main objectives thereof, namely: to explore the continuities and discontinuities of political violence in South Africa pre- and post-apartheid; to analyse and evaluate the underlying socio-economic and political factors that led to the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres; to investigate the common denominators among the aforementioned massacres; and to address the impact of violence and the very factors that triggered the escalation of violence in the first place.

Chapter Six: This chapter presents the conclusions and recommendations drawn from the study findings. The conclusion summarizes the findings along the main objectives of the study and subsequently follows with the recommendations.

1.11 CONCLUSION

This chapter attempted to provide the context of the study by exploring the background thereof, statement of the problem, research questions, justification and scope, among other issues. The next chapter reviews the relevant literature about the problem under investigation, so that the study is grounded in a firm theoretical framework. Subsequently, the third chapter describes the procedures and activities undertaken during the research exercise. In the fourth chapter, data is presented, analysed and interpreted. Finally, a summary, conclusions and recommendations are made in chapter six.

13

CHAPTER 2

LITERATURE REVIEW

2.1 INTRODUCTION

A literature review is considered to be the unpacking of the current state of knowledge regarding a topic. This provides the researcher with the basis to formulate the research hypothesis and research question. This chapter deals with relevant issues pertaining to a literature review. Further to this, it reflects on research that has already been conducted on the topic and its relevance to this particular study. The focus in this chapter will be on conflict in general; more especially its sociology and research that is related to the topic of the study, the concept of collective and political violence, political violence in South Africa and the truth and reconciliation commission.

According to Birley and Moreland (1999: 102), a literature review should provide a comprehensive and relevant overview. In some cases, it becomes necessary to rework literature so that it can be related to own concerns. They further argue that a literature review should involve a critical study and investigation and provide some connections to the research.

Brewerton and Mill (2001) argue that a literature review is essential as a means of organization of ideas and a recording of evidence, or material gathered. The literature review, although it seems to be a task with a clear beginning and definite end, is more ongoing and open than one might assume. It provides a platform on which a researcher can organise thought and arguments on evidence that has already been collected. They further assert that through literature review, the researcher can identify other areas of focus.

2.2 POLITICAL VIOLENCE

Definitions of political violence have a tendency to be all-inclusive, rather than precise. Gurr (1970: 401) defines political violence as every attack within a political community that is directed towards the political regime, its actors, including competing political groups and officials or policies. A recent definition of political violence sees it as the use of brute force which may injure, damage, violate or destroy persons or property

14 (Gurr, 2002: 15). Manfred (2003: 12) describes political violence as comprised of meanings such as to force, to injure, to dishonour and to violate. Another definition goes on to include the motivation of the perpetrators. Politically motivated violence is commonly referred to by the terms terrorism, rebellion, war, conquest, revolution, oppression and tyranny (UK Essays, 2013). Political violence is presumed in most definitions as referring to organised violence designed to overthrow the government (Hansen, 2009). Other definitions describe it as violence from the regime against its political rivals. In the light of the above definitions, political violence can be interpreted in general as violence aimed at the state on the basis that the state is in control and has legitimate right to apply force (Hansen, 2009).

Galtung and Hoivik (1971: 56) argue that one of the main causes of political violence towards the government, is the failure to provide the basic needs and demands of the people. The failure to provide for people’s needs and demands inevitably leads to social conflict, which may degenerate into political violence towards the state, if not properly addressed (Galtung and Hoivik, 1971: 56). The political violence from the state will not stop when it tries to end the violence though negotiations with the opponent. Most social scientists and theorists are concerned with political violence, judging from the number of scholarly works and books on the subject in recent years (Galtung and Hoivik, 1971: 56).

Violence is often regarded as an unavoidable part of the human condition because of its prevalence. According to the World Health Organization (WHO) (2002: 15), there is no nation or community that is untouched by violence. The media is pervaded by imageries and stories of violence on the streets, in households, offices and organizations. Violence is a common problem that tears at the fabric of communities and threatens the life, health and happiness of every individual (WHO, 2002: 15).

In South Africa, the recent developments and descriptions of conflict, as well as the continuation of past forms of violence are a threat to the country’s fragile democracy (Simpson and Rauch, 1992: 311). Simpson and Rauch (1992: 311) dispute the idea that legalised change and a human rights framework will inevitably stop violence in a society that is already violent and militarized. Various scholars have labelled this persistence of violence in South Africa as ‘a culture of violence’, where violent behaviour is supported as a prime solution to everyday challenges and difficulties.

15 The criminal justice system apparatus in democratic South Africa is faced with challenges such as a continuous abuse of power, the lack of trust between the public and the police, ineffectiveness, shortages of resources and corruption (Harris, 2003: 41). It has been blamed for protecting perpetrators of crime, who are regarded as having more rights, compared to ordinary citizens. This opinion is usually supported by crime-fighting rhetoric and political statements from community leaders to community-based organizations and actually feeds the public a culture of impunity (Harris, 2003: 41).

Oliver and Myers (2003: 41) mention that in an interactive situation, the police and opposition have the ability to think and adapt and resultant repression should, with time, decrease the number of deaths and injuries, whilst protesting becomes difficult. However, the state and opposition may sometimes remain fixed in their tactics (Oliver and Myers, 2003: 41). The majority of political theorists who follow Hobbes and Weber’s ideas, perceive collective violence as a fundamental part of political life. This is because every individual, even those in countries going through late economic development or wealthy western democracy, is exempt from politically motivated violence (Rapoport and Weinberg, 2001 2001:105).

In South Africa, racial identity can be regarded as one of the leading causes of violence within communities. The apartheid regime left behind, clearly defined boundaries and racialized areas which did not dissolve automatically with the Group Areas Act and related legislation (Harris, 2003: 50). But rather, these areas embody a continuous obstacle in building a de-racialised society and pushing for a culture of human rights that is meaningful (Harris, 2003: 40). Rapoport and Weinberg, 2001(2001: 34) argue that in South Africa, the issue regarding space defines the access to services, resources and land, patterns of inclusion and exclusion, and relationships of power; both between socio-economic and political 'groups' and within specific communities.

Speaking of migration to Johannesburg, Palmary et al. (2003: 101) note that – “the experience of migration to the city is but one factor in the process of marginalization, a process experienced differently by different groups”. To illustrate what they mean, they quote the example of the gender-differentiated implementation of the apartheid- era pass laws which resulted “in gendered patterns of migration.”

16 Harris (2003) suggests that these traumas are observable in violent clashes between and within marginalized groups and her argument represents a departure from the classical Marxist notion that conflict only simmers between the ‘haves’ and the ‘have- nots’. Gender also plays a key role in the experience of violence in terms of both perpetration and victimisation patterns. For example, Gear (2002: 37) explains that for former soldiers drawn from across the political spectrum, “notions of masculinity, coupled with unresolved trauma, can translate into violence, particularly within the domestic context where ongoing aggression and violence’ remain unresolved (Harris, 2003).

The relevant sense of political violence that needs to be understood is that violence, of course, can take many forms. In the most literal sense violence involves the causing of physical injury or harm to others. Typically, though, violence extends to more metaphorical senses involving violations of rights and personal integrity as well as expressions of outrage or liberation from bondage (Degenaar, 1990: 24; Garver, 1970: 64).

Du Toit and Manganyi (1990: 135) distinguish political violence from other forms of non-rational aggression “by claims to a special moral or public legitimation for the injury and harm done to others, as well as by the representative character of the agents and targets of these acts of violence.” Some kinds of political violence also have a notable symbolic and discursive character; instead, Du Toit (1993) is of the view, correctly to my mind, that “these deeds of violence acquire and generate special public significance, resonating far beyond the immediate harm or injury done.” These features of political violence will no doubt be of particular relevance to any understanding of violence. But what is involved in “understanding” violence? Du Toit (1993) argues that “senseless violence”, i.e. violence that cannot be rationally justified unlike self-defence as an example, has little appeal to our reason.

Violent resistance against tyranny or in a liberation struggle is commonly recognized as justifiable. In other circumstances the instrumental uses of political violence are also well known and widely practised. These are ways in which we understand the use of political violence. It is when political violence escalates and proliferates in ways which seem to confound the conventional criteria for moral legitimation and do not readily make sense in terms of instrumental rationality either, that we are confronted with a more radical problem of understanding this phenomenon. Du Toit (1993)

17 contends that “[i]t is in this radical sense that understanding political violence in South Africa now poses a special challenge and problem.”

It is frequently posited that the serious social and political dislocations caused by political violence allow for the expression of various other forms of violence (Simpson, 1993). This certainly appears to have been the case in South Africa between 1990 and 1994, with reports of a dramatic increase in child abuse, homicide, violence against women and incidents of taxi violence, particularly within Black communities (Duncan and Rock, 1997).

Frankel (2013: 342) states that tragedy tends to catalyse change. Marikana is such a tragedy, a potential tipping point on the trajectory of South Africa’s political economy. It stands as an elucidation of South Africa’s fault lines two decades into its democratic dispensation. Marikana is less about a single massacre with all its horrible specifics, and more about a fundamental generative process in mining and in civil society in general.

Breckenridge (2014: 45) indicates that despite our jaded familiarity with very high levels of public violence, the police massacre at Marikana in August 2012 came as a physical shock to South Africa. “The events seemed in so many ways to be a surreal flashback to a repudiated past. In the months that followed the massacre, it became increasingly clear that Marikana was much less a return to the politics of apartheid, than a symptom of the preservation of deeply formed structures of politics within the mining industry.”

2.3 SOCIAL CONFLICT AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE

There is a complex relationship between social conflict and political violence. Social conflicts involve the confrontation of powers. On the other hand, politics involves the struggle for power and this makes conflict a basic ingredient for politics. This is usually action-oriented, which is intentionally meant to enforce the will of a politician/political party through certain actions taken, mostly against the resistance of other people, groups or parties.

According to Morris and Stevensen (1971: 39), conflict is a “social relationship in which the parties hold logically incompatible values”. Ekanem and Simon (2012) comment on this passage by indicating that political conflict is normally a fight over “values,

18 power and scarce resources”. This violent struggle for social justice is nothing if not political violence. Ekanem and Simon (op cit.) accordingly conclude that political violence is the result of social conflict.

2.4 SOCIAL CONFLICT

Max Weber (1947: 132) defined conflict as action, oriented intentionally to carrying out the actor’s own will against the resistance of the other party or parties. In this sense, conflict is an everyday, normal, on-going, for the most part, institutionalised process that is a natural part of social reality. Coser (1967: 232) defines social conflict as a “struggle over values or claims to status, power, and scarce resources in which the aims of the conflict groups are not only to gain the desired values but also neutralise, injure or eliminate rivals”. Coser’s (1967: 232) definition has the advantage of being more in line with the everyday usage of the word conflict.

One major tradition in sociological theory, culminating above all in the work of Parsons (1978), concentrates its attention on situations of co-operation or what he calls institutionalisation of role expectations: As he puts it in his own terms: “the institutionalisation of a set role of expectations and of corresponding sanctions is clearly a matter of degree. The degree is a function of two sets of variables - on the one hand, those affecting the actual shrewdness of the value orientation patterns; on the other, those determining the motivational orientation or commitment to the fulfilment of the relevant expectations”.

Social conflict arises from the structural arrangement of individuals and groups in a social system. As Dahrendorf (1962: 165) points out: some positions are entrusted with a right to exercise control over other positions and to ensure compliance with authority through coercion. The persistence in time of authority structures gives rise to relations of dominance and subordination and thus provides the occasion for exploitation.

2.5 THE SOCIOLOGY OF SOCIAL CONFLICT

The theory of social conflict was derived from the works of Karl Marx, who concentrated on the causes and consequences of class conflict between the owners of the means of production and the capitalists and the working class and the poor (Cole, 2017). Marx conceived this theory while concentrating on the economic, social,

19 and political consequences of capitalism in Europe. The social conflict theory was premised on the existence of a powerful minority class and an oppressed working class, which produced class conflict due to opposing interests and an unjust distribution of resources (Cole, 2017).

According to Cole (2017), this system created inequality within the social order, preserved through ideological coercion, which creates a consensus and acceptance of the values, expectations, and conditions as determined by the bourgeoisie. Marx theorized that the work of producing consensus was done in the "superstructure" of society, which is composed of social institutions, political structures, and culture, and what it produced consensus for was the "base," the economic relations of production (Cole, 2017). Marx reasoned that as the socio-economic conditions worsened for the proletariat, they would develop a class consciousness that revealed their exploitation at the hands of the wealthy capitalist class of bourgeoisie, and then they would revolt, demanding changes to smooth the conflict (Cole, 2017). Below are the various proponents that explain social conflict from different perspectives, which help to understand the political violence in Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana.

2.5.1 MAX WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF SOCIAL CONFLICT

Weber, like Marx, considered class conflict to be an endemic feature of a capitalist society (Binns, 1977). This view is apparent from his early writings about East Prussia. His recurrent concern with class conflict as a central feature of economic and political life, has led to much confusion on the part of later commentators (Binns, 1977). Giddens, for example, suggests that for both Weber and Marx, ownership versus non- ownership of property is the most important basis of class division in a competitive market. Weber initially defines class situation as the typical probability of procuring goods, gaining a position in life and finding inner satisfaction. This class situation is seen to derive from relative control over goods and skills (Binns, 1977). According to Binns (1977), class situation is defined as the totality of people in the same class situation and Weber’s three-fold typology of classes includes property, commercial and social classes. His conception of class as a market-centred phenomenon permeates and in an important sense, structures his concern with rationalisation as the central developmental feature of contemporary society. In respect of said rationalisation, he believed the adage: “the fate of our times is characterised by

20 rationalisation, intellectualisation, and above all by the disenchantment of the world” (Koshul, 2005: 11). By this Weber meant a stage of social development where there are no mysterious forces at work and in which it is possible (at least in theory) to master all things by rational calculation. A key feature of this process is the conscious pursuit of individual interests or the substitution of the unthinking acceptance of ancient custom.

Weber sought to elucidate the historical foundations of rationalisation and to show how it may historically assume different forms. He held, for example, that the very direction of the action deemed rational, may vary (Binns, 1977). It may proceed positively as a conscious rationalisation of ultimate values. As much as he thinks that rationalism is an historical concept that covers a whole world of different things, his analysis in fact refers principally to the particular rationality of capitalist society (Binns, 1977).

2.5.2 RALPH DAHRENDORF’S SOCIOLOGY OF SOCIAL CONFLICT

Attached to Weber’s sociology is the fatalistic assumption of the necessity of domination. At the same time, his analysis of the class structure of capitalist society is articulated in terms of, and at a particular level of economic action. Dahrendorf (1962), by contrast, has abstracted the concept of authority from the totality of Weber’s work and elaborated a comprehensive theory of class structuration wholly in terms of it.

Central to Dahrendorf’s (1962) account of social reality, is his persistent failure to examine the class formations which emerge from the interaction of man with nature through particular historic modes of social production. In his influential work, Class and Class Conflict in an Industrial Society, Dahrendorf (1962) presents his theory of integration and values on the one hand, and coercion and interest on the other, as the embodiments of the two faces of society. Dahrendorf (1962) asserts that both models have equal explanatory validity for the solution of different sociological problems, but proceeds to argue that recent sociological thought has been excessively dominated by integration theory. In particular, he criticises Parsons for the essentially one-sided nature of his utopian analysis. The principal concern in his work is to explain organised social conflict on the assumption of the coercive nature of social structure. Dahrendorf’s (1962) intention is to account for a particular set of problematic social phenomena in terms of the constraint, as opposed to the utopian or consensus model.

21 Dahrendorf (1962) cites Marx as an exponent of the rationalist school of social theory. Marx assumed the ambiguity of change and conflict as well as domination and subjection. Dahrendorf (1962) sees Marx’s theory of class to be the essential device. He ignores the fact that Marx also saw classes as a historically bound, objective socio- economic formation arising from the social relations of production in definite material circumstances. That is why in capitalism, essentially a social relation arises only where the owner of the means of production and the means of subsistence finds in the market a free worker who offers his labour power for sale (Dahrendorf, 1962).

2.5.3 KARL MARX’S SOCIOLOGY OF SOCIAL CONFLICT

Karl Marx presented his theory on class and class conflict as scientific and empirical. He based his theory on evidence from the world around him. Marx sought to develop a comprehensive theory to explain the major historical changes of the past and the nature of capitalism. Marxist theory appears, in most ways, to be the very antithesis of the Parsonian approach. It begins with human labour and sees most of what Parsons (1978) regards as the resources of the system, merely as alienated labour. Its aim is the demystification of theories such as Parsons (1978), emphasises system contradiction rather than system maintenance and it posits class conflict both as endemic in capitalist society and as the means of transition to a new social order.

Carl et al. (2011) summarizes Marx’s view that workers (which he famously called ‘the proletariat’) are drawn from the impoverished, marginalized masses of society. They are barely able to survive on the starvation wages that they are paid and certainly do not share in the profits and benefits reaped from their sweat. According to Marx, it is only once the workers have lost their ‘false consciousness’ and raised to overthrow the private ownership of the means of production, that an end to the tyranny would be in sight. Marx proposed socialism as a solution in which the state controls the means of production on behalf of everybody so as to ensure a fair and equitable distribution of wealth and income.

All in all, we can see that Marxist theory has an important contribution to make to the theory of social conflict. It is unique in placing at the centre of its system of institutional analysis the institution of production, but sees that institution as dependent both upon technological and political factors. It suggests a complex relationship between institutions which are basic and those which currently exist (Carl et al., 2011).

22 2.6 CONFLICT AND VIOLENCE: CAUSES AND DYNAMICS

Bartos and Wehr (2002: 2-6) identify various factors that directly and indirectly lead to the rise and escalation of conflicts. These include the growth of science and technology and its application to weaponry, the growth of the nation-state and its capacity to mobilise resources for control and violence, the increase in population, large-scale civil unrest and strikes, extreme poverty, economic depression and so forth. Moreover, according to Bartos and Wehr (2002: 9), conflict behaviour can occur for six main reasons: Moreover, according to Bartos and Wehr (2002: 9), conflict behaviour can occur for one of six main reasons: incompatible goals, inflexible positions, organised conflict, conflict between disparate resources, hostility and unwillingness to share sufficient material resources. Furthermore, they argue that “if the level of conflict solidarity within group increases, the chances that they will engage in conflict behaviour increase as well” (2002: 9).

Sometimes it is argued that scarcity causes conflicts. The same perceptions consolidate feelings of solidarity and a sense of belonging in the group. Each side in a conflict usually blames the other’s aggressive behaviour for the fight. Kriesberg (1998: 30) observes that

An observer, however, might conclude that the adversaries are mistaken - each is actually seeking to defend what it has and its defensive efforts are incorrectly perceived by the other as threatening. Or the observer may believe that the basis of the conflict is a natural consequence of the imbalance of power among the adversaries and the lack of agreed-upon procedures for managing issues in dispute between them.

Kriesberg (1998: 182) further asserts that the more intense a conflict, the more the immaterial conflict resources play a role than the material ones. Unfortunately, most of the time the mediators of conflicts focus too much on the contested material resources while forgetting the social-psychological aspect of escalation and de- escalation. Therefore, the success of a mediation depends on how physiological or non-material causes are given due consideration, not only material or positivistic factors.

Gebrewold (2009:77) citing, Karstedt (2004: 287), indicates thatconflict serves to establish and maintain the identity and boundary lines of societies and groups because it contributes to the establishment and reaffirmation of the identity of the groups and

23 through it, the group maintains its boundaries against the surrounding social world. But at the same time, conflict always denotes social interaction or communication between groups as well as within groups. Through conflicts between groups, patterned enmities, reciprocal antagonisms, social divisions and systems of stratification will be conserved. In a case of low degree of bridging and linking between the groups, a group conflict can emerge.

According to Galtung (2004: 110-11), violence is the influence that keeps the actual somatic and mental realisations below potential realisations. He divided violence into physical, cultural and structural. Physical violence is violence against somatic integrity (killing, torture, rape etc.), structural violence is about gradual death of the poor, who are victims of socioeconomic system. Cultural violence, on the other hand, means discrimination and marginalisation of a cultural group because of its cultural, religious or ethnic background. The phenomenon of violence has led various researchers to explore the causes, characteristics and manifestations of violence. Violence is a monopolistic behaviour that consciously or unconsciously attempts to prevent change, that is, it attempts to materialise stability and stagnation (Deutsch, 1973: 5).

There are different types of violence, namely: individual violence, collective violence (political violence, group violence, civil war) and state violence (state power monopoly, dictatorship and state terrorism, wars and war crimes) (Imbusch 2002: 46). Gebrewold (2009:81), citing Gurr (1970: 358) postulates that “violence inspires counter-violence by those against whom it is directed. It consumes scarce resources that could otherwise be used to satisfy aspirations. Worst of all - it consumes men, its physical victims, physically and its practitioners mentally by habituating them to violence as the means and end to life. The more intense and widespread the use of force, the less likely are those who use it, rebels or regimes, to achieve their objectives through their total victory.” Hanagan (2002: 169, 175) argues that the most significant forms of violence (the public, the symbolic, etc.) are those that are reproduced in the private sphere because they are simultaneously deep-rooted in political and economic life. Galtung (2004) concurs with this view and demonstrates that violence flourishes when no-one takes personal responsibility, since violence shows itself most convincingly in structures of inequality.

24 2.7 COLLECTIVE VIOLENCE

According to the World Report on Violence and Health, collective violence includes but is not necessarily limited to: wars, terrorism and other political conflicts that occur within or between states, state-perpetrated violence and organised violent crimes. The World Report defines collective violence as the instrumental use of violence by people who identify themselves as members of a group against another group or set of individuals, in order to achieve political, economic or social objectives (Zwi et al., 2002: 215). The Carnergie Commission on Preventing Deadly Conflict identified widening social and economic inequalities, lack of democratic processes, ethnic composition of the ruling group differing sharply from that of the general population, and cycles of violent revenge as indicators of states at risk of collapse and internal conflict (Lapidus and Tsalik, 1996).

Henry Anyidoho, the erstwhile Deputy Force Commander and Chief of Staff of the United Nations Mission in Rwanda (UNAMIR) states that conflicts in Africa result from, inter alia, disputes over traditional boundaries, competition for natural resources, inequitable distribution of political and economic power. Further causes are negative legacies of colonial rule, such as weak state capacity, and ethnic competition stemming from the collapse of the historical relationships that provided the framework for collaboration among ethnic groups of which African States are composed (Anyidoho, 1997).

A study by the Department for International Development (DFID) (2001) which investigated the causes of conflict in Sub-Saharan Africa, argues that it is possible to distinguish between the root causes of conflict and the secondary causes that enable and sustain conflict. The study lists the root causes of conflict in Africa as: weak states and state collapse, economic declines and disintegration, competition for natural resources and a tradition of resolving conflict by violent means. Secondary causes of conflict include unemployment, lack of education and populations pressures, the abuse of ethnicity, the availability of arms and the absence of strong and independent civil society.

Given the weakness of many African states and the competition for scarce natural resources among and between heterogeneous populations, peacekeeping is as important as the cessation of hostilities. Post-conflict peace building seeks to identify and support structures which strengthen and solidify peace, in order to avoid relapse

25 into conflict. The peace-building doctrine arose out of the recognition that late 20th century conflicts were more brutal and destructive in nature than earlier wars. Contemporary conflicts damage the fabric of civil societies, and are often related to, and even caused by endemic poverty and lack of human development. Peace-building is the bridge between peace support operations and human development; it is the component of a peace support operation that makes it sustainable, and preserves its gains in the medium to long term (Whaley, Piazza and Georgi, 1997).

2.8 POLITICAL VIOLENCE IN SOUTH AFRICA

It is now a commonly voiced observation emanating from the international media that South Africa is a country prone to political conflict and violence. Bornman (1998) suggests that “[a]lthough political and collective violence did subside after the 1994 elections, the period since 1994 has been characterised by an unprecedented wave of violent crime”.

2.8.1 POLITICAL VIOLENCE BEFORE 1990

The apartheid system employed a range of repressive measures to control dissent. These included house arrest, imprisonment without trial, countless states of emergency and the routine military occupation of black residential areas (Duncan and Rock, 1997: 69).

It is estimated that over 80 000 people were imprisoned without trial between 1960 and 1994. Of these, over 10 000 were subjected to various forms of psychological and physical abuse or to outright torture (Coleman, 1994: 60). Thousands were eventually tried in the apartheid state’s courts of law and imprisoned. Many received life and death sentences. Coleman (1994) further states that it was reported that from 1974 to 1989, about 300 assassinations of various leading political activists by covert state sponsored hit squads took place both within and beyond the borders of South Africa. At least 100 of these assassination attempts were successful.

Prior to 1990 and the subsequent unbanning of political organizations, there was political protest centered around mass action by non-white communities heeding the call of violent struggle to make the townships unmanageable. The deployment of security forces to restrain these forms of protest, led to many deaths and injuries (Minnaar et al., 1994: 45, 230).

26 2.8.2 POST 1990 TRENDS

In contrast to the 1980s, the conflict and violence in the 1990’s was different, in that much of it occurred only between political parties without the involvement of security forces. In addition, the state of emergency was lifted while a number of political organizations were unbanned. In the aftermath of the political transition set in motion by former State President F.W. De Klerk’s speech in February 1990, and contrary to expectations raised by various political leaders, the levels of politically motivated violence and unrest in South Africa escalated.

During the early 1990s, South Africa experienced what many political commentators referred to as a low-intensity war within Black residential areas, particularly in the Gauteng and Kwa-Zulu Natal provinces. Virtually on a daily basis, the news media was filled with reports of bomb blasts, internecine battles in townships, and assassination of influential political figures. Most of the victims of these incidents were Black (Coleman, 1994: 71).

Many political analysts typified this wave of political violence as “Black on Black” violence. Furthermore, because it often involved members of the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) and the African National Congress (ANC), it was frequently characterised as a party-political battle for supremacy on the South African political landscape (Knox and Quirk, 2000: 31).

2.8.3 THE TRUTH AND RECONCILIATION COMMISSION AS A RESPONSE TO INSTITUTIONAL VIOLENCE

Immediately after the 1994 national elections, the post-apartheid Government of National Unity proposed that a mechanism be put in place to address the political violence that had haunted South Africa for so many years, namely a Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), chaired by Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

As a form of transitional justice, according to Abrahams (2010), the TRC was tasked with providing a full picture of the nature, causes, and extent of gross human rights violations committed during apartheid. Between 1960 and 1994, 2,500 people had been hanged for political crimes, while about 80,000 people had been detained without trial. The TRC’s mandate was limited to atrocities committed during that period. In this regard, some of the worst acts of political violence committed by the apartheid state

27 effectively fell beyond the scrutiny of this institution (Abrahams, 2010). In the process, therefore, a sufficiently comprehensive examination and analysis of the extent and impact of the various forms of political violence engendered by apartheid, for all intents and purposes, were precluded (Abrahams, 2010).

Secondly, the narrow definition of gross human rights violations as ‘the killing, abduction, torture or severe ill-treatment of any person or any attempt, conspiracy, incitement, instigation, command or procurement to commit an act of killing, abduction, torture or severe ill-treatment’, precluded not only the examination of all the variants of political violence spawned by apartheid, but also of the system of apartheid itself as a crime against humanity (Promotion of National Unity and Reconciliation Act No. 34 of 1995).

2.8.4 AMNESTY PROVISIONS IN TERMS OF TRANSITIONAL JUSTICE

It had been suggested that true reconciliation was never attained through the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), since the past was actually buried deeper, rather than being exposed (Abrahams, 2010). However, the question of criminal accountability was brought forward in the negotiation proceedings and an acknowledgement was made, since a general amnesty was found to be counter- productive. The Interim Constitution’s final chapter included an extract which asserted that in an effort to progress towards reconciliation and reconstruction, pardon will be granted with reference to the acts, omissions and offences related to politically oriented intentions and committed during the past conflicts (Abrahams, 2010). The Interim Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, Act 200 of 1993 states that, “To this end, Parliament under this Constitution shall adopt a law determining a firm cut- off date, which shall be a date after 8 October 1990 and before 6 December 1993, and providing for the mechanisms, criteria and procedures, including tribunals, if any, through which such amnesty shall be dealt with at any time after the law has been passed.”

The objectives of the TRC were to act as a medium for most South Africans to resolve past antagonism, nonetheless, it managed to foster an ever-growing amnesia developed by South Africans to forget that violent past. According to Abrahams (2010), the TRC was criticised across the world when it could not tackle the problem of political violence after 1994, irrespective of the amnesty’s provisions, which may be in

28 contradiction with international law. Only genuine willingness from South Africans to accept and deal with one of the most violent periods of the country’s history, was the way to true conciliation (Abrahams, 2010).

2.9 CONCLUSION

In conclusion, this chapter dwelled much on the literature review, based on the continuities and discontinuities in South African political violence, focusing on the Sharpeville, Bhisho and recent Marikana massacres. More so, the chapter exhausted the discourses and empirical studies on political violence in South Africa within the social matrix and the long history of oppression, poverty and exploitation in the country. Central to this, was the fact that from 1948, the apartheid government denied the majority of South Africans access to central political authority and entrenched racially based social inequality. The state used vertical institutional violence to maintain this inequality, racial superiority and social control.

29

CHAPTER 3

RESEARCH DESIGN AND METHODOLOGY

3.1 INTRODUCTION

According to Babbie and Mouton (2006:75), a research design can be described as a blueprint for conducting a study. It goes on to identify the research problem as the point of departure. The research design performs the function of designing a strategy to find out something and therefore there is a need to specify what needs to be found out and determine the best way to go about it. Hart (1998:28) defines methodology as a system of methods and rules that facilitates the collection and the analysis of data. It provides the starting point for choosing an approach made of ideas, theories, definitions and concepts of the topic, therefore, the basis of a critical activity consisting of making choices about the nature and character of the social world.

3.2 QUALITATIVE COMPARATIVE RESEARCH METHOD

This research seeks to explore the continuities and discontinuities in South African political violence, focusing on the Sharpeville, Bhisho and more recent Marikana massacres. Robert Marsh (1961) argues that comparative sociology should be regarded as a separate field because its data and objectives are distinct from analysis limited to a single society. The difference between the comparative and non- comparative wings of social research lies more in the range of options considered than in a distinctive methodology.

Generally, the comparative research method can be of a qualitative or quantitative nature. It can involve existing statistics, experimental design, surveys, historical documents or field observation (Neuman, 2003: 524). For this study, the researcher has decided to follow a qualitative research design, applying an unobtrusive or non- reactive research method (Babbie, 2007: 319) that does not involve direct elicitation of data from the research subjects. In view of the fact that the three case studies occured some time in the past, it is stressed that this study is devoted to a critical (and comparative) examination of documents and literature devoted or based on these cases, ie. a documentary analysis.

30 Neuman (2006: 151) asserts that qualitative research entails conducting a detailed examination of cases that arise in the natural flow of social life. It tries to present authentic interpretations that are sensitive to a specific social historical context. An important angle of qualitative research that is needed in this study, is the fact that it also emphasizes respect of human beings as people and not just as study objects.

3.3 CASE STUDY APPROACH

The study seeks to align with the qualitative tradition to study the political violence in South Africa. A qualitative approach allows for the collection and analysis of naturalistic data to be understood in relation to a social context and setting.

3.4 QUALITATIVE CASE STUDY DESIGN

This study was designed as a multiple case study in the qualitative tradition. The employment of a multiple case approach allows for a comparative analysis of data and triangulation of data from different cases (Yin, 2009: 94). David and Sutton (2011: 164) state that a case study is an in-depth study of specific units. Units may be individuals, organizations, events, programmes or communities. Case studies are distinguished from surveys in that they are primarily designed to investigate specific cases in depth.

According to Denscombe (2003: 38), using the case study method helps the researcher to focus on one or a few instances and that this allows the researcher to deal with the intricacies of complex situations. It also helps the researcher to grapple with relationships and social processes in a holistic way, rather than simply focusing on social facts. For the purpose of the treatise, the researcher will employ the case study method and the focus will be on the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres as cases. The researcher will also reassess what seems to be important. This calls for exercising careful judgment (Simon 1976: 277).

3.5 DATA COLLECTION TECHNIQUE AND PROCEDURE

This study covers available research and literature including books, journal articles, academic research papers, legislation, newspaper articles, photos and other publications. The government archived documents that are relevant to the case studies to be analysed, will also play a critical role in this study.

31 Due to the pending criminal investigations and civil litigation related to the Marikana matter, and the time lapse since the Sharpeville and Bhisho massacres, the researcher did not conduct interviews for the purpose of this study, but relied on relevant documentary material. The Marikana Commission of Enquiry report by Judge I.G. Farlam, dated 31 March 2015, is amongst the relevant documentary material considered for this research. The researcher also monitored the recently lodged civil claim by the families of the 37 mineworkers killed at Marikana, against the Minister of Police. The 37 families are represented by The Socio-Economic Rights Institute of South Africa (SERI), the Legal Resources Centre (LRC) and Wits Law Clinic.

3.6 DATA ANALYSIS PROCEDURE

The researcher used the framework method to analyse the data. The Framework Method sits within a broad family of methods of analysis often termed thematic analysis or qualitative content analysis. These approaches identify commonalities and differences in qualitative data, before focusing on the relationships between different parts of the data, thereby seeking to draw descriptive and/or explanatory conclusions clustered around themes.

The Framework Method was developed by researchers Ritchie and Spencer (1994), from the Qualitative Research Unit at the National Centre for Social Research in the United Kingdom in the late 1980s, for use in large-scale policy research. Its defining feature is the matrix output: rows (cases), columns (codes) and ‘cells’ of summarised data, providing a structure into which the researcher can systematically reduce the data, in order to analyse it by case and by code. Comparing and contrasting data is vital to qualitative analysis and the ability to compare, with ease, data across cases as well as within individual cases, is built into the structure and process of the Framework Method. The Framework Method provides clear steps to follow and produces highly structured outputs of summarised data.

3.7 ETHICAL CONSIDERATIONS

According to Babbie (2007:27), the fundamental rule of social research is that it must bring no harm to research subjects. This fundamental rule was followed by the researcher of this study. Flew (1979: 104) states that the word ethics often suggests a set of standards by which a group or community decides to regulate its behaviour,

32 to distinguish what is legitimate in the pursuit of their aims and what is not. He goes on to clarify this aspect of social research and defines ethical decisions as those which arise when researchers try to decide between one course of action and another, not in terms of expediency or efficiency but by reference to standards of what is morally right or wrong. Although there was no interaction with the research subjects in the form of interviews, or other data gathering activity, the researcher kept in mind the ethical considerations in all his engagements.

3.8 CONCLUSION

This chapter laid out the research design and the research methodology. The research project adopted the qualitative research approach due to its advantages, being that the instruments that are used in the qualitative research approach allow for a deeper understanding of the phenomena under study and flexibility in analysing. The main method of collection of data was the documentary analysis of continuities and discontinuities in South African political violence, focusing on the Sharpeville, Bhisho and the recent Marikana massacres.

33

CHAPTER 4

NARRATIVES OF THE SHARPVILLE, BHISHO AND MARIKANA MASSACRES IN SOUTH AFRICA

4.1 INTRODUCTION

Political violence has deep historical roots in South Africa; numerous forms thereof have occurred in the previous decades; these include the violence of Frontiers wars, the violence within the Apartheid and violence against the Apartheid era (Louw, 2004:56). To comprehend these forms of violence would need one to recognize the key social process and power dynamics that caused the political violence. There are some similarities between political violence within the current political dispensation and previous violence in other periods (Mackinon, 2012: 35). Given the fact that South Africa is a colonial and post-colonial society, political violence is deeply rooted within its society. From the initial period of colonization, attempts to colonize and encroachments made on the land, were met with armed opposition from the natives.

For a period of approximately 200 years, the Cape colony was a slave society and forced practices persisted for an even longer period. Furthermore, the spread of trekboer communities into the interior could be secured only by the deployment of corporate violence in the form of commandos; this would literally culminate in an extermination campaign against the San peoples by the end of the eighteenth century (Bowerman, 2008: 67). The first conflicts between trekboers and Xhosa on the Eastern Cape frontier in the 1780s, led to more than a century of frontier wars. Moreover, Afrikaner resistance to British imperial rule culminated in the South African War of 1899-1902; during the course of the twentieth century, the modern South African state brought the coercive imposition of minority rule, white supremacy and apartheid (Le May, 1996). Consequently, the anti-apartheid struggles of the second half of the twentieth century have to be understood within this context.

The history of political violence within South Africa may be appropriately periodized in relation to two primary themes; these are the industrial development and the rise of the modern state, and to another magnitude, the apartheid policies and resistance against these policies. Primary industrialization may be dated from the mining

34 revolution following the discovery of diamonds (around 1870) and gold in the 1880s (Van der Waal, Robins, 2011: 8). Whereas the onset of the apartheid period is conventionally considered to be the accession of power of the National Party in 1948, until the transition from apartheid signaled by De Klerk`s landmark address of 2 February 1990.

In this context, one may distinguish four main periods, which include the pre-modern and pre-industrial and the period of frontier wars, conventionally dated from the confrontations of Trek Boers and Xhosa on the Eastern Cape frontiers in the 1780s (Downing, 2004: 67). However, the initial periods of Khoisan resistance to colonial settlement in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and ending with the suppression of the Bambatha rebellion in Natal in 1905 are disregarded by some. Another crucial period is the modernizing period, effectively dating from the Union in 1910, with white minority rule exercised through a centralized state, coupled with the modern sector of the economy and white supremacy, tempered by paternalistic notions of trusteeship and segregation (Du Toit, 1993: 13).

The apartheid period began in 1948, with Afrikaner nationalists taking command of the state, attempting to restructure society according to an explicitly racist ideology and policy, and countered by popular resistance developing from the determinedly non- violent Defiance Campaign of 1950 to the armed struggle and popular insurrection of the 1980s (Posel, 1991: 34). The process of modern state formation was characterized by a distinctive trajectory in its relation to political violence. Initially, it brought a major escalation in both the extent and intensity of such violence (O`Meara, 1996: 5). However, once a centralized modern state was established, this achieved an increasingly effective measure of control, amounting to the comparative elimination of overt political violence from public life for a substantial period of several decades. Moreover, the question of political violence was reopened in the context of apartheid and the struggle against apartheid, though in a peculiarly complex and quite distinctive fashion.

That the apartheid era brought major changes in the constitutive relations between the state, resistance and the incidence of political violence, can be gauged at the crudest level of the rise in overall casualty figures (Chetty, 1990: 67). The statistical graph, which had remained at a low base level throughout the modern era since Union in 1910, could be shown to start rising from the Durban riots of 1949, the shootings in

35 Witzieshoek in 1950 and the East London Riots in 1952, to Cato Manor and the Pondoland risings of the 1950s (Vigne, 1997: 3). Nevertheless, it was pre-eminently the massacre at Sharpeville in 1960, which symbolized a traumatic, historical watershed in national political life.

4.2 THE SHARPEVILLE MASSACRE (21 MARCH 1960)

On 21 March 1960, White police in the town of Sharpeville, South Africa, opened fire on a large crowd of peaceful Black protesters, killing perhaps a hundred of them and injuring many more. Brian Martin (2007: p?) contends that “This massacre dramatically publicised the protesters’ cause internationally. This case starkly illustrates how violent attacks on peaceful protesters can be counterproductive.”

In 1960, Whites ruled South Africa and in the system called apartheid, Blacks, who composed most of the population, could not vote and were given only the worst jobs at low pay, so their standard of living was far below that of Whites. Blacks received separate, inferior education. Their movements were restricted: to travel, male Blacks had to possess a “pass,” analogous to an internal passport. By 1960, pass documents were held in a “reference book” that contained the holder’s name, his tax receipt, his permit to be in an urban area and to seek work there, permits from the Labour Bureau, the signature of his employer each month, and other particulars. The reference book had to be shown on demand to any policeman or any of the fifteen different classes of officials who required to see it. It was the experience of many Blacks that failure to show the hated passbook on demand, would lead to arrest or harassment.

Reeves (1992: 45) further asserts that through the 1950s, the ANC was totally committed to non-violence. For example, in 1959, the ANC called for a one-month boycott of potatoes, which were a suitable boycott target for both economic and symbolic reasons. Thousands of Blacks, jailed for pass law violations, were put under the supervision of farmers and made to pick potatoes with their bare hands. Though potatoes were a diet staple, the boycott was taken up eagerly and continued for three months before the ANC called it to a close (Luthuli 1962: 217-9).

In the late 1950s, the ANC was increasingly challenged by the Pan Africanist Congress (PAC), which took a more militant stance. In March 1960, the PAC organized protests

36 against the pass laws, with 21 March set as the date for rallies around the country. Being an anti-apartheid organizer was a risky business. The South African Police were well in control, with paid informers providing information about activities of both the ANC and PAC. Through their informers, police were aware that major protests were being planned around the country, but were misled about the date. PAC activists discovered the police agents and fed them false information (Frankel 2001: 64).

The apartheid regime was about more than just spatial and economic differentiation and gradually evolved into an extensive set of policies that affected almost every aspect of the lives of the township populations (Fiske and Ladd, 2004: 45). The introduction of the Bantu Education Act in 1953, for example, made sure that even for children from the townships, there was no escape from racial oppression. Bantu education, which provided four years of basic education and literacy skills in English and Afrikaans, to prepare young Africans for semi-skilled work in industries (Lodge, 2011: 12), was widely considered as a method to indoctrinate ideas of racial inferiority in African children.

This would in fact make township youth more aware that they had the least to lose in mobilizing themselves to fight against the violent and discriminatory system in which they were trapped because without change, they would face the same subordinated socio-economic and political position as their parents (Newbury, 2012: 30). The politically radical drive for action by the youth also received a following amongst older township dwellers, who had witnessed their lives being debilitated due to large increases in rents and prices of transportation, as well as stringent enforcement of pass laws during the latter half of the 1950s.

Seen against this backdrop of frustration with apartheid, it was not unexpected that political opposition movements gained many supporters amongst young people, as well as adults, in a series of protests and defiance campaigns (Kooijmans, 2014: 26). Regardless of political antagonism and defiance of township residents, the Nationalist Party was relentless in pursuing the expansion of the apartheid programme (Foster, Haupt and De Beer, 2005). The government granted the police unrestricted authority to stun any defiance or protest, which became evident when the local branch of the Pan-Africanist Congress (PAC) organized a civil disobedience campaign against the pass-laws in Sharpeville in 1960.

37 The PAC was formed in 1958, by mainly young, well-educated ANC members from Johannesburg, who were cynical of collaborating with the Communists and adopted a more radical political ideology of African nationalism (Lodge 2011: 24). The PAC sought to challenge White minority rule through nationwide non-violent action and civil disobedience campaigns like those of the ANC. According to Maylam (2010: 1), the ANC had organized a demonstration to take place on 31st of March but the PAC party wanted to pre-empt the ANC and settled on the date of 21 March 1960. On 18th of March, PAC leader Mangaliso Sobukwe declared in Johannesburg at a press conference that the PAC would launch the first phase of its unfolding programme for the liberation of South Africa (Sibeko, 1976: 4). The campaign’s target was on the pass laws which were the lynch-pin of the Apartheid system. This movement was strengthened with a call on all pass-carrying African men to leave their passes at home and march to police stations nearest to them and demand to be arrested for refusing to carry a pass (Sibeko, 1976: 4).

In Sharpeville, several local PAC members rallied community members to stay away from work and organized protests against the pass-laws, one the main nuisances of most non-white people who lived and worked in Johannesburg (Reeves, 1992: 23). The leaders of the ANC were against the PAC demonstration as they feared that it would become uncontrollable (Maylam 2010: 1). The rally proceeded relatively peacefully throughout Saturday and Sunday nights but it became serious when more police were deployed to end the protest. A small number of protesters carrying stones and iron bars were stationed at the gates of the Sharpeville police station so as to harass the police, who were responding to the threat with batons and whips (Maylam 2010: 1). This was not much of a violent conflict as the demonstrators were aiming at exhausting the police.

On Monday morning, none of the buses moved out of Sharpeville to ferry workers as PAC members lined up demonstrators in the streets before the break of dawn (Sibeko, 1976: 6). Reports suggest that one or two PAC leaders wanted to direct the demonstration into White Vereeniging which is something police were afraid of (Maylam 2010: 2). There were a few small clashes in the morning between the police and the protestors, however, around noon a crowd of around 20 000 protesters were gathered in an open area around the Sharpeville police station (Maylam 2010: 2). Within the vicinity of the police station were around 100 or so policemen.

38 Approximately 160 heavily armed White police officers were present at the station, together with around 130 Black policemen who were carrying assegais and knobkerries (Maylam 2010: 2). The demonstrating masses were furthermore not threatened by fighter planes which were flying overhead. What happened next, was completely unexpected for the protesters, as police officers started firing their automatic rifles at the crowd (Kooijmans, 2014: 26). Even as people were fleeing in panic after the first targeted shots, the police continued to fire and killed or injured many in what unfolded into a full-fledged apartheid massacre. Within a matter of two minutes, hundreds of bodies lay on the ground like debris (Sibeko, 1976: 7). According to Sibeko (1976: 7), “The joyful singing had given way to murderous gunfire, and the gunfire was followed by an authentic deadly silence, and then screams, wild screams and cries of the wounded”. Laying on the ground were 69 people dead and almost 200 injured protestors, including women and children (Sibeko, 1976: 7). In the immediate aftermath of the events at Sharpeville, protests and riots took place across the country, to which the government responded by declaring a state of emergency and detaining thousands of people (Kooijmans, 2014: 26).

The organizations that had organized or supported the protests, including the ANC and PAC, were declared illegal and their leaders arrested or forced into exile due to the threat of prosecution (Klein, 2009: 13). Even though the extensive presence of security forces restored some peace and stability in the townships, the Sharpeville massacre and subsequent onslaught had raised the stakes of political resistance and strengthened the resolve of township youth to overthrow the National Party government (Kooijmans, 2014: 27).

The effects of the apartheid administration enforced by an extensive police and military force, became so widespread and entrenched that it had tangible ramifications on the daily realities of township residents (Frankel, 1980). Township youth and children, especially, were a frequent target of harassment or blatant torture for various types of administrative offences and mass raids on schools were becoming a common practice of the police, in order to arrest suspected youth offenders.

This violent situation reinforced the feelings of township youth - that the passive resistance campaigns of the older generations had not brought them any closer to the change they desired. Violent confrontations had stamped out any consideration for dialogue with the authorities and thus campaigns to overthrow the apartheid system

39 in its entirety, seemed the only feasible way forward for many young township dwellers. Landau (in Kooijmans, 2014: 27) argues that from that perspective, Umkhonto we Sizwe, the armed wing of the ANC established in the wake of the Sharpeville massacre, was an attractive option for many angry township youth who were given the means and political ideologies for violent retaliation against the discriminatory state. Umkhonto we Sizwe occupied itself for two years with various sabotage campaigns until the leadership, including Nelson Mandela, was arrested at Rivonia and put on trial in 1963 (Martin and Murray, 2005: 2).

Political opposition in most Johannesburg townships seemed to have been suppressed during the 1960s through the use of heavy police presence, the massive use of spies and frequent mass raids (Glaser, 1998: 311). The Apartheid government got the opportunity to develop an ambitious strategy of social engineering on a mass- scale within the townships and the rural Bantu homelands so as to decrease the urbanization of Blacks (Glaser, 1998: 311).

4.2.1 THE REPORT OF THE J. P. WESSELS COMMISSION

The appointment and terms of reference of the Commission were set out in Government Notice No. 469 of 1st April 1960 and were published for general information in a Government Gazette Extraordinary (No. 6404). The objectives of the Commission were to investigate and report on the occurrences in the Districts of Vereeniging (namely Sharpeville and Evaton location) Province of the Transvaal, on 21 March 1960. The Commission was led by Judge J.P. Wessels.

According to the Commission report, the Commission commenced its work on 11 April 1960 and from that date to 16 June 1960, when the public proceedings were terminated, there were 34 sitting days. The Commission sittings were held in public. The evidence of 116 witnesses was taken. Each witness used the language of his or her choice and official interpreters were used where necessary. For record purposes, only the two official languages were used - Afrikaans and English.

According to Frankel (in Martin, 2007), the Apartheid regime’s preference for the commission was towards the subservient end of the spectrum: A pliant or partially pliant commission which aimed at establishing the malicious intent of the Sharpeville demonstrators and portrayed the responses of the police as a natural, if over-reactive, case of self-defence could certainly connect the prevailing oppression mentality

40 among White South Africans in the aftermath of the massacre. Frankel (in Martin, 2007) believes that the regime wanted the commission’s proceedings to conclude swiftly in order to both assure the global community of the government’s concern as well as to take advantage of the victims’ state of shock to prevent them from testifying accurately.

Martin (2007) argues that the commission appeared to have fulfilled most of the Apartheid regime’s expectations, particularly marginalizing the testimonies of the victims. Frankel (in Martin, 2007) with regards to the commission’s report, notes that the general findings, when read decades later, are heavily incomprehensible, riddled with double-talk, qualifications, and refutable logic as to defy both legal reasoning and ordinary comprehension. The commission’s report was unintelligible and was to a certain extent favouring the police (Frankel in Martin, 2007). Sometimes it seems events are so obvious that they “speak for themselves”. According to Martin (2007), the Sharpeville massacre turned into a symbol of the Apartheid regime’s brutality and it was easy to assume its transparent meaning to all but the most prejudiced of observers. Nonetheless, taking a closer look, exposes complexities such as the quick obscuring of the Sharpeville massacre events by the different agendas of Black activists and the police, who adopted simplistic and self-serving accounts (Martin, 2007).

4.2.2 PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE SHARPEVILLE MASSACRE

Source: Frankel (2001:200) Figure 4.1: Protesters Beaten and Killed

41 The above picture shows the Sharpeville massacre scene captured from behind the safety of the police officers. In the foreground we are shown the use of excessive force by the South African police officers. This is illustrated by the beating of protestors and the use of guns by police officers. The clouds of dust in the middle of the picture and the large amount of people running away from the scene suggests that something horrific is happening here.

Source: Frankel (2001:311) Figure 4.2: Killed Protestors as a Result of the Massacre

The picture shows the bodies of the dead and wounded lying in the street on March 21st, after police opened fire on a crowd of stone-throwing South Africans. They were protesting a law that required them to carry identification passes at all times.

Source Frankel (2001:101) Figure 4.3: Protesters Killed after the Shooting

42 The image above shows people wounded after clashing with the state police. The police opened fire on protesters in an effort to quell the demonstration.

Source: Frankel (2001:120) Figure 4.4: Mass Funeral of Killed Protestors

The picture shows the funeral for the Sharpeville victims, which was scheduled for a few days after the massacre. The apartheid government wanted no public record of it and therefore, there were no news reporters or media. Police and soldiers cordoned off the entire area with barbed wire, armored cars and an iron curtain of guns (Knight, n.d.).

4.3 THE BHISHO MASSACRE (07 SEPTEMBER 1990)

On the morning of 7 September 1992, 80 000 demonstrators gathered at the Victoria Grounds, King William's Town, where they were addressed by various leaders of the alliance. The reason for the demonstration was to call for Gqozo to resign and they avowed that they would carry on with the mass action till he did so (White, 2008). Gqozo was the military ruler of the former homeland of Ciskei in South Africa. There were a number of reasons why Gqozo’s resignation was called for. According to White (2008), the first was that he could not guarantee that the Ciskei Defense Force (CDF) would take all sensible and nonviolent measures to stop the protesters before resorting to shooting. Secondly, he had to either withdraw of his own volition or involuntarily, from the essence of the events that were about to take place, and thereby renounce his authority concerning the events. Thirdly, Gqozo failed to partake in discussions held before the protest. The last and most serious reason was the omission which arises from a report by Reverend Bongani Finca, where he narrates that on the

43 morning of the shootings, leaders of the march gathered in Gqozo’s King William’s Town office (White, 2008).

On the day of the massacre, the protesters were told that they would proceed to Bhisho and that they would remain there until Gqozo and his government abdicated. Also, the leaders had been informed that the Ciskei Defence Force soldiers would not fire at the marchers. It seems therefore, that on the question of whether Gqozo had to be censured for his actions before and during the massacre, there are certain aspects on which he, as the head of the state, fell short of expectations, and on which he had to be criticized. The crowd, which was not armed, then moved in an orderly fashion to the border. The march was led by leaders of the alliance - Ronnie Kasrils (Head of military intelligence in Umkhonto weSizwe and later the South African Deputy Minister of Defence and Minister of Water Affairs and Forestry), Steve Tshwete (later South African Minister of Safety and Security), Chris Hani, Raymond Suttner, Cyril Ramaphosa, Smuts Ngonyama and Tokyo Sexwale (all members of the National Executive Committee of the ANC), John Gomomo (President of COSATU), Harry Gwala (a member of the ANC, Kwa Zulu), Linda Mti (Chairperson of the Eastern Cape ANC), and Mluleki George (President of UDF) (White, 2008: 142).

According to White (2008: 142), upon arrival at the border, the marchers were met by John Hall and Anthony Gildenhuys of the National Peace Committee (NPC). Kasrils told them that the march would proceed to Bhisho and, no doubt because he realised this was a possibility, he implored the NPC to ensure that the soldiers did not fire at the marchers. Hall and Gildenhuys replied that the NPC had no authority over the soldiers, and requested that before matters got out of hand, the leaders of the march should enter into shuttle diplomacy with the Ciskeian authorities. Kasrils stated that there was no time for such negotiations, which had taken a long time during the first march, which took place on 4 August 1992, when 30 000 demonstrators marched from King William's Town towards Bhisho (White, 2008: 142). The crowd was funnelled by razor wire barricades into Bhisho Stadium. Its vanguard proceeded in an orderly fashion into the stadium, where they were seated and awaited the start of the proceedings. When the leaders of the march discovered a gap in the perimeter fence to the North of the stadium, which had been made during the first march, they decided to take the marchers through it, across Jongilanga Crescent and into Bhisho. This

44 decision was taken despite the leaders being aware that there were armed soldiers barring the way (White, 2008: 142).

After the decision had been taken, Kasrils beckoned to those in the stadium to follow him. He led them out of the stadium, through the gap in the fence, and from there towards the soldiers to the North of the stadium near Jongilanga Crescent, whose duty it was to protect the route to Bhisho. When the marchers, who were now running, came to within 100 metres of the soldiers, the latter opened fire (White, 2008: 142).

The marchers dived for cover and those who had not been killed or injured, fled back to the stadium. There is little doubt that when Kasrils led the marchers through the gap in the fence and on towards the soldiers at Jongilanga Crescent, he must have realised that the soldiers could open fire. He was aware of the Sharpeville and other massacres, where soldiers or police had opened fire on unarmed demonstrators. With that knowledge, he could hardly have dismissed the possibility of something similar happening at Bhisho (White, 2008: 143).

In his book, Armed and Dangerous, Kasrils contends: ‘I believe we walked into a deliberate ambush. This conclusion he based on his belief that there were SADF vehicles present at the scene on the day, that the gap in the perimeter fence of the stadium had been purposely made by the CDF, that there were soldiers to the West of the stadium, and that the soldiers at Jongilanga Crescent were obscured. The evidence given at the criminal trial, which was supported by videos taken on the day of the massacre, refuted all these suggestions. There were no SADF vehicles present in Ciskei on that day, the gap in the fence was made by the demonstrators during the first march on 4 August 1992, there were no soldiers to the West of the stadium, and the soldiers and Buffel troop carriers at Jongilanga Crescent were visible from the stadium and to the approaching marchers (White, 2008: 146).

Lastly, Kasrils’ contention that he led the marchers in a north-west direction from the stadium, so as to circumvent the soldiers at Jongilanga Crescent, and that thereafter he would turn eastwards behind the soldiers and proceed to Bhisho, was also contradicted by evidence given at the criminal case (White, 2008: 147).

The Bhisho massacre is presented in a different way from the Sharpeville massacre, it is perceived as Black on Black violence. However, the Bhisho massacre has been perceived as an isolated incident. This obscures the fact that the massacre was an

45 extreme manifestation of ongoing repression in the Ciskei (Guelke, 2000: 6). This repression is not merely some generalized consequence of the Bantustan system. The administration of Oupa Gqozo, which replaced that of Sebe in 1990, was a particularly vicious administration. The crisis in the Ciskei and the inability of De Klerk to resolve it peacefully, is in itself a manifestation of a deeper political bankruptcy of the apartheid regime (White, 2008: 148).

Irrespective of its practice of denying rights to the majority of its people, the apartheid state was able to garner allies of the same ilk to strut up its violent structure. For a brief period at the beginning of his rule, and ironically Gqozo came to power on the crest of widespread anti-Sebe mass action, there were harmonious relations between the Gqozo administration and the ANC (Slablowinski, 2005: 89). When the temporary compromise ended, Gqozo`s period of leadership was characterized by massive violence against communities and the banning of the ANC and all political activity by the organization and re-imposition of unpopular pseudo-tribal structures (Slablowinski, 2005: 89).

The breakdown in negotiations between the government and the ANC over a new constitution, provided the occasion for a conflict on strategy and tactics within the ANC leadership. This reflected conflicts within the ANC’s social base of support (Wood, 2011:3). The core ANC leadership grouped around Nelson Mandela, rested ultimately on the small but growing Black middle class being attached to capital through positions on company boards, through franchises and gifts of all kinds and through access to higher education. A much larger constituency is the swelling mass of human misery thrown up by the combined working effect of South Africa's traditional social structure, the global depression and the results of sanctions and economic autarky in the 1980s.

The failed rhetoric of the 1980s proceeds to offer the appearance of a solution to the masses for whom existence was a daily struggle for survival. Everett (1999: 9) opines that these people experienced a worsening of life resulting from a slump in savings, declining investment and a seize-up of world markets. The immediate future, like the present, offers nothing but further hardship and privation, adding to the hardship and privation against which they rebelled in the 1980s (Everett, 1999: 9).

46 4.3.1 THE GOLDSTONE COMMISSION REPORT

The Goldstone Commission was headed by R. J. Goldstone (Chairman of the Commission) who was assisted by D. J. Rossouw (Vice-Chairman), M. N. S. Sithole and L. Bagwa. According to White (2008), the commission criticized the leaders of the protest for not informing delegates of the National Peace Committee that they planned to break the provisions given by magistrate's order by leaving the stadium and continuing to Bhisho. When testifying before the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) on the 9th of September 1996, Mr Cyril Ramaphosa stated that the principal demand of the alliance which was to be highlighted by the march was for free political activity and an end to violence in the Ciskei. Political repression and violence in the Ciskei were associated with Brigadier Gqozo’s regime and so the call for free political activity and an end to violence was linked to a demand for his removal. He also testified that the Ciskei authorities were unwilling at all times to grant permission for any demonstration on Ciskei soil, notwithstanding attempts to obtain an agreement which was initiated by the South African Government, the SAP and non-governmental organizations. Mr Ramaposa added that after the commencement of the march, some Alliance leaders went ahead “to reconnoitre" the situation at the border. On arrival at the border, they noticed that the road had been blocked by rolls of razor wire to prevent the marchers from proceeding along the road to Bhisho (Report and evidence of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, 1996).

According to the Goldstone Commission Report (1992), there was also razor wire placed strategically to channel the marchers to their left and into the Bhisho Stadium on the southern side. That stadium is situated very close to the border. The leaders met with the Chairman of the National Peace Committee, Mr John Hall, the Chairman of the NPS, Dr Antonie Gildenhuys and other observers who were present in order to assist in keeping the proceedings peaceful. Mr Hall and Dr Gildenhuys informed the Alliance leaders who included Messrs H. Salie, Cyril Ramaphosa, Chris Hani and Ronnie Kasrils that the Ciskei authorities were determined that the Alliance supporters would not be allowed into any part of Ciskei other than the Bhisho Stadium. The Alliance leaders indicated that if they were prevented from entering Bhisho they would have to reconsider their options. They did not accept that the Ciskei security forces had any right to frustrate their plans. Representatives of the NPS offered their services as go-betweens and it was agreed that there would be discussions between them and

47 the leaders of the march when it arrived at the razor wire barrier (The Goldstone Commission Report, 1992).

Near the Bhisho Stadium, which is close to the South African Border, members of the

Ciskei Defence Force (CDF) shot at a group of the marchers. In consequence, 29 people were killed and hundreds were injured. According to the CDF, some 425 rounds of ammunition were fired by their members. There is only one material dispute, viz. whether shots were fired at the soldiers. The Commission recommended that those in control of any region, city or town anywhere in South Africa, including the TBVC homelands, should tolerate and allow complete freedom of expression and of peaceful assembly. Mass action must be organized in such a manner that all reasonable steps are taken to avoid violence. At the cost of repetition, that can only be achieved by removing, as far as possible, the risks created by unpredictable conduct. The leaders of all organizations which use forms of mass public demonstrations should do so only as a peaceful means to popularise political policies and propagate political changes. They should immediately and publicly abandon any political action calculated to result in conflict and violence. In order to avoid physical conflict and violence, mass demonstrations should not be used as a means of causing serious and non-temporary disturbance or as a means of direct political intimidation. The leadership of the TBVC homelands and of the self-governing territories should forthwith publicly declare themselves willing to tolerate and facilitate reasonable and negotiated public mass demonstrations in the areas under their control.

The leadership of the Alliance should publicly censure Mr Kasrils and other persons who were responsible for the decision to lead demonstrators through the gap in the fence and thereby knowingly or negligently expose them to the danger of death and injury. The officers commanding the CDF should immediately conduct a full enquiry into the training and discipline of their members with the intention of taking such steps as may be necessary to ensure that a recurrence of the undisciplined, unprofessional and wholly unacceptable conduct, of which they were guilty on 7 September 1992, cannot recur. The results of such enquiry and the steps taken pursuant thereto should be made public.

The Attorney-General of Ciskei should investigate criminal charges against any person responsible for death or injury of any person shot in or in the vicinity of the Bhisho stadium on 7 September 1992. The Ciskei Council of State should publicly

48 acknowledge that members of the CDF acted reprehensibly and unacceptably in reacting in a wholly disproportionate manner and causing the unnecessary deaths and injuries to people who were fleeing from them. (The Goldstone Commission Report 1992).

4.3.2 PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE BHISHO MASSACRE

Source: ANC archives, Greg Marinovich, Bhisho (1992) Figure 4.5: Protesters

The picture shows African National Congress marchers break through security fencing shortly before Ciskeian apartheid homeland troops open fire on them, calling for the disbanding of the Ciskei homelands, Bhisho 1992.

49

Source: ANC Archives, Greg Marinovich Photographer, Bhisho 1992 Figure 4.6: Ciskei Defence Force Soldiers on the day of the massacre

The picture shows Ciskeian apartheid homeland troops move into position ahead of an African National Congress march calling for the disbanding of the Ciskei homelands, Bhisho 1992.

Source: ANC archives, Greg Marinovich, Bhisho (1992) Figure 4.7: Protesters shot and killed

The above picture shows soldiers and ANC supporters looking at 29 marchers who were killed after the ANC march on the Ciskei homeland. The ANC supporters were killed when the Ciskei security force opened fire, after the marchers broke through the border, in an attempt to march to force the Ciskeian military leader to allow free political activity in Ciskei.

50 4.4 THE MARIKANA MASSACRE (16 AUGUST 2012)

The Marikana massacre refers to the events of 11 to 16 August 2012 at the Lonmin Mine at Marikana, where 44 people lost their lives, more than 70 were injured, approximately 250 people were arrested and millions of rands worth of property damaged. These events were preceded by a wage dispute between worker unions and the Lonmin management (Twala, 2012: 67). The events were exacerbated by a dispute between the National Union of Mineworkers (NUM) and the newly formed Association of Mineworkers and Construction Union (AMCU).

On the night when the strike started, 10 August 2012, NUM mobilised scabs to break up the action. The following day, 11 August, shop stewards from the union shot at a peaceful march of about 3000 strikers, seriously wounding two of them. The workers fled, eventually arriving at a kopje (an igneous outcrop) they called the ‘mountain’. Here they remained, arming themselves with traditional weapons to defend themselves from NUM. On 13 August, Frans Beleni, NUM’s general secretary, called for ‘the deployment of the Special Task Force or the South African Defence Force’ (Alexander et al. 2012, 178).

Three days later, it was the task force that carried out the massacre. Lonmin attempted to absolve itself of responsibility, claiming that the clashes were a consequence of competition between NUM and a new union, the Association of Mineworkers and Construction Union (AMCU). But the strike committee included members of both organizations, and union leaders rightly denied that rivalry caused the stoppage.

Alexender (2013: 3) asserts that in the days leading to the massacre, Lonmin lobbied government to treat the workers’ actions as criminal, rather than as an industrial dispute, thus justifying a police response along lines proposed by Baleni. Lonmin also provided crucial logistical support for the police, including offices for its Joint Operations Centre, intelligence collected by security personnel, access to more than 200 security cameras, accommodation and food for police, and transport (Alexander, 2013: 3). It donated helicopters used on the day, and it provided ambulances and a detention centre. Critically, the company refused to talk to their employees (Alexander, 2013: 3).

One cannot refute that gunfire from the police was the direct cause of the massacre. According to Alexander (2013), the armed policemen massacred 34 men, whereas

51 none of them were wounded. The protesting miners were sitting peacefully on and around a hill when the policemen positioned razor wire fencing in front of them. The miners became fearful of being confined inside the razor wired perimeter and they started to vacate the area. Many of the protesters began walking northwards towards Nkaneng, an informal settlement that was nearby where most of them resided (Alexander, 2013). The video footage, according to Alexander (2013), displays that the miners did not run towards the police, nor did they pose any threat. At that point, the policemen opened fire on the miners. That is the moment when the miners began to run in all directions but not charging towards the police. A middle-ranked officer ordered the policemen to open fire if they felt like they were in danger, which, in the context, can be interpreted as permission to kill (Alexander, 2013). Twenty miners were massacred in a matter of seconds by the police task team’s barrage of bullets. The inquiry labelled this area ‘Site One’. Realizing what had happened, most of the miners began moving towards a low koppie which was around 300 metres west of the mountain (Alexander, 2013). At this point, the miners were surrounded by the police and 14 more protesters were killed. The inquiry named it ‘Site Two’. In their defense, the police claimed that they opened fire in self-defense, which cannot justify their disproportionate use of force, or the killings at Site Two, or the fact that 14 of the 34 dead men were shot in the back or the back of their head (Alexander, 2013).

There are numerous similarities between the Sharpeville and Marikana massacres (Marinovich, 2016: 56). Without warning, the SAPS fired into an unarmed crowd at Sharpeville in Vereeniging, killing at least 69 anti-pass law protesters. I argue that the Marikana massacre should be understood within the context of South Africa’s participation of the neoliberal capitalist imperative which includes perpetrating violence to secure profits.

According to Alexander (2013), many scholars saw this incident as a turning point in the struggle against apartheid. Although this incident happened more than 50 years ago, it united the oppressed masses against the National Party Government, in much the same way as the Marikana massacre (Marinovich, 2012: 55). The Marikana tragedy also united the masses, however, unlike the Sharpeville protest that focused on apartheid laws, Marikana was a protest against economic inequality and injustice.

Hence, the Marikana massacre has to be understood within the context of global capitalism and inequality. After 1994, the problem of inequality has magnified under

52 the post-apartheid ANC government (Pauw and Mncube, 2007: 3). The majority of the working class in South Africa earn a minimum wage salary, whereas CEO`s earn millions of rands in salaries and bonuses. For instance, according to (Legassick, 2012), in 2011 the top three managers at Lonmin received R44,6 million. Such economic disparities emanate from uncontrollable global capitalism. Cole (2017) argues that global capitalism is the fourth and current epoch of capitalism. It contrasts with earlier stages of mercantile capitalism, classical capitalism, and national corporate capitalism which were managed by and within nations, but it now surpasses national barriers and thus is global in scope (Cole, 2017).

According to Cole (2017), characteristics of a system in its global form, consisting of production, accumulation, class relation and governance, have been disembodied from the nation and reorganized in a globally integrated way that increases the freedom and flexibility with which corporations and financial institutions operate. The global capitalist economy is a consequence of the liberalization of the worldwide market and the creation of new legal and regulatory superstructure for the global economy and the internal restructuring and global integration of every single country’s economy (Cole, 2017). The grouping of these two is intended to construct a liberal world order, an open global economy, and a global policy regime that disregards the borders of nations, to allow the free movement of transnational capital between national barriers and the free operation of capital within borders in the search for new productive outlets for excess accumulated capital (Cole, 2017).

The process of globalizing the economy began in the mid-twentieth century. Currently, global capitalism is defined by the following five characteristics: the production of goods is global in nature, corporations can now disperse the production process around the world, so that components of products may be produced in a variety of places, final assembly done in another, none of which may be the country in which the business is incorporated (Harvey, 2006: 6). Also, the relationship between capital and labour is global in scope, highly flexible and thus different from previous periods. Since the late twentieth century, corporations have operated globally and may have moved their business interests from one corner of the globe to another to secure better profits.

In this context, labour is flexible in that a corporation can draw from an entire globe`s worth of workers, and can relocate production to areas where labor is cheaper or more highly skilled, should it wish to. Thirdly, the financial system and circuits of

53 accumulation operate on a global level (Giddens and Hutton, 2000: 9). Wealth held and traded by corporations and individuals is scattered around the world in a variety of places, which has made taxing wealth very different. Individuals and corporations from all over the world now invest in businesses, financial instruments like stocks or mortgages, and real estate, among other things.

Another feature is the existence of a transnational class of capitalists, owners of the means of production and high-level financiers and investors whose shared interests shape the policies and practices of global production, trade and finance (Hertz, 2002: 41). Relations of power are now global in scope, and while it is still relevant and important to consider how relations of power exist and affect social life within nations and local communities, it is deeply important to understand how power operates on a global scale, and how it filters down through national, state and local government to impact the everyday lives of people all over the world (Bair, 2005: 35). Lastly, the policies of global production, trade and finance are created and administered by a variety of institutions that compose a transnational state together.

The epoch of global capitalism has ushered in a new global system of governance and authority that impacts what happens within nations and communities around the world. The core institutions of the transnational state are the United Nations, the World Trade Organizations, the Group of 20, the World Economic Forum, the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank. Together, these organizations make and enforce the rules of global capitalism (Sklair, 2012: 20). It has freed corporations in highly developed nations from national constraints such as labor laws, environmental regulations, corporate taxes on accumulated wealth and import and export tariffs (Scholte, 1997: 56). This new phase of capitalism has fostered unprecedented levels of wealth accumulation, and has expanded the power and influence that corporations hold in society.

Within the South African context, the state has been unable to seriously change the national socio-economic direction in the interest of the majority of the people. The end of apartheid has helped to increase SA`s integration into global capitalism (Buscher, 2009: 88). The benefits and misfortunes of capitalism and racism are mass poverty for the majority and wealth and privileges for the powerful minority, which includes a few Blacks (Bond, 2003:56). There has been the dialectical and organic relationship between the benefits and misfortunes of capitalism and racism in South Africa, since

54 their inception. The concrete understanding and resolution of the link between these issues in South African history, is through the theoretical use of the relationship between race and class and theoretical and practical recognition of the primacy of class over race in South Africa.

Capitalism, since its inception in South Africa, has constituted a primary or irreconcilable contradiction for the masses of its exploited people. Certain features of the domestic and foreign policies of the post-apartheid period, best reflect the nature and presence of global capitalism within the context of South Africa (Christie, 2010:7). Post-apartheid South Africa is described as a class society in which the capitalists or the bourgeoisie are the dominant class. The dominance or supremacy of the bourgeoisie was conditioning the state, other forms of social organization and social ideas in South African society (Saul, 2005: 5). Global capitalism depends on the control, domination and exploitation it exercises over human, natural, material and financial resources of these countries, which include South Africa.

Since 1994, the political leaders of South Africa have been attempting to solve the problem of the national question through the de-racialization of the economy and society. However, the most important question was how the national question can be solved without solving the problem of misfortunes of capitalism and racism (Magubane, 2004:5). The formulation, adoption and implementation of the national economic policy included the creation and consolidation of the black bourgeoisie in the continued struggle to end racism. The national task to create and strengthen a Black capitalist class was an integral part of the goal of de-racialization within the context of the property relations characteristic of a capitalist economy.

The negotiations to end apartheid were premised upon the achievement of political equality, whilst leaving the structure and function of the economy intact. However, it was difficult to de-racialize the society without leaving White capital untouched (Satgar, 2012a: 7). The transnational compromise removed the question of wealth redistribution from the agenda and confined the settlement to narrowly political and constitutional issues, the establishment of bourgeois order, democratic rights and liberal democratic structures (Hart, 2006: 65). Maketlaneng (2017) mentions that in South Africa, Government’s policy directives are often accused of furthering the objectives of vested interests. This fundamentally only serve the strategic interests of the bourgeoisie of advanced capitalist nations. It structurally helps to forge and sustain

55 a class alliance between the bourgeoisie at the centre of capitalism and that of South Africa and imperialism in the country (Maketlaneng, 2017).

Furthermore, the creation of a Black bourgeoisie under the guise of Black Economic Empowerment, serves to insure against possible nationalisation. Black Economic Empowerment is a tactic by the leaders of the South African mining industry enriching Blacks selected from a small pool of people in advancing their strategic interests (Maketlaneng, 2017). It involves opportunities and massive enrichment for a relative handful of well-placed individuals of debt-funded wealth, including their advisers who became enormously wealthy. It is argued that this creation of a Black bourgeoisie does not necessarily benefit the individuals that have been impoverished and marginalized by global capitalism (Taylor, 2001:12).

Furthermore, this creation of a Black bourgeoisie is viewed as a buffer against fundamental change, since it departs from the important race in the South African political economy (Makgetlaneng, 2017: 5). The reality that some aspects of the criticism of the BEE policy that depart from the issue of race in the South African political economy are in favor of the White bourgeoisie and petty-bourgeoisie (Makgetlaneng, 2017: 5).

This socio-historical development has substantially opened the doors of opportunity to some Blacks. One of its consequences is the rapid growth of the African petty- bourgeoisie and bourgeoisie. Makgetlaneng (2017: 6) maintains that the profile of this relatively wealthy African social forces hides the reality that, firstly, the end of the apartheid rule has ‘benefited the White minority disproportionately – 87% of Whites’ who ‘are now in the upper-income brackets.’ The second reality is ‘the growing disparity between the incomes of the wealthy and the poor, who are overwhelmingly Black. The fact that some aspects of the criticism of the BEE policy, that depart from the importance of race in the South African political economy, are in favor of the White bourgeoisie, can best be understood if we take into account the reality that before 1994 there was a concentrated focus on the White bourgeoisie (Qunta, 2011: 56).

Since 1994, there has been a shift from the focus on the White bourgeoisie to the Black bourgeoisie. The focus on the Black bourgeoisie, excluding the White bourgeoisie, is as if or implies incorrectly that the White bourgeoisie in its alliance with imperialism is no longer the central impediment to the long walk to the structural socio- economic change and transformation. It is as if the Black bourgeoisie is the key social

56 force within South African capitalism, to be defeated by the Black working class (Ashman and Newman, 2011:175). Having left out the White bourgeoisie from the requisite criticism, the White working class has been left to White liberal and conservative parties for mobilization into the defense of South African capitalism, led by the White bourgeoisie in alliance with imperialism. Is it a progressive position to call upon White socialists and communists to play a leading role in mobilizing the White working class into a progressive and revolutionary movement as an integral part of the struggle to end the benefits of capitalism and racism?

On the contrary, it serves to reinforce global capitalism and the White monopoly hold on wealth within South Africa. This creation of a Black bourgeoisie is viewed as a short-term means of controlling even more of the economy and empowering certain well-connected individuals to act as buffers against fundamental change (MacDonald, 2006: 5). It is argued that the old apartheid social power relations, which include economic production systems, have remained almost the same.

Big monopolies in mining, energy and finance have remained in charge, continuing to wield social powers and they have integrated within them, as their junior partners, the Black business class and the Black political elites to attain legitimacy. The attaining of power and exercise of power by some Blacks have not seriously and negatively affected economic power and authority exercised by some Whites (Saul, 2012: 3). In an analysis of power relations, it has been challenged that the 1994 political dispensation has led to the separation between political power and economic power.

The main aim of these empowerment initiatives is to divert the focus of the ANC from radical economic ambitions, which include nationalizing the major elements of the South African economy.

The few Black capitalists depend economically, financially and ideologically also on White South African capitalists and imperialism. Their advancement is limited by being the beneficiary of the reallocation of rights, particularly in the mining sector of the South African economy. Black capital has not yet articulated a clear, coherent and strong ideological commitment to capitalism (Turok, 2014: 45). The so-called new Black capitalists have not yet taken advantage of the government’s incentive to fundamentally reform land distribution along racial lines (with or without compensation.)

57 Tragedy tends to catalyse change. Marikana is such a tragedy, a potential tipping point on the trajectory of South Africa’s political economy. It stands as an elucidation of South Africa’s tectonic fault lines, two decades into its democratic dispensation. Marikana is less about a single massacre with all its horrible specifics, and more about a fundamental degenerative process in mining and civil society in general (Frankel, 2013: 98).

4.4.1 THE FARLAM COMMISSION REPORT

The Marikana Commission of Enquiry (Commission) was appointed by the President of the Republic of South Africa, Mr Jacob Zuma, in terms of section 84(2)(f) of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa of 1996, on 23 August 2012. Its mandate, arising from the Terms of Reference promulgated on 12 September 2012, is to investigate matters of public, national and international concern arising out of the tragic incidents at the Lonmin Mine in Marikana, in the North-West Province, which took place on Saturday 11 August up to Thursday 16 August 2012, which led to the deaths of approximately 44 people, more than 70 persons being injured and approximately 250 people being arrested.

The President appointed Honourable Judge Ian Gordon Farlam, a retired judge of the Supreme Court of Appeal as Chairperson of the Commission and Advocate Bantubonke Regent Tokota, SC and Advocate Pingla Devi Hemraj SC, as its additional members. The Terms of Reference were gazetted in English, seSotho and isiXhosa, which are the predominant languages in the Marikana mining community and surrounding areas. The Commission was further required to submit interim reports and recommendations to the President each month, prior to the final report being presented to the President.

The Commission submitted its final report to President Zuma on 31st March 2015. On the evening of 25th June 2015, the full report of the Commission was also made available to the public. The report largely exonerates the key political figures accused of having a hand in the events leading to the Marikana massacre. Regarding Deputy President Cyril Ramaphosa, who was a non-executive director at Lonmin, and who pressured former Police Minister Nathi Mthethwa and former Mineral Resources Minister Susan Shabangu to increase the policing of the strike, the commission found that, given the deaths that had already occurred, his intervention did not cause the

58 increase in police on site, nor did he know that the operation would take place on 16 August.

“The Commission is of the view that it cannot be said that Mr Ramaphosa was the 'cause of the massacre’,” the report reads. “There is no basis for the commission to find even on a prima facie basis that Mr Ramaphosa is guilty of the crimes he is alleged to have committed.”

The Marikana Commission was more uncertain about Mthethwa's role as Police Minister at the time. The decision to move to the tactical phase of the operation to disperse and disarm the mineworkers, was taken at an extraordinary meeting of the police national management forum (NMF) and the report refers to evidence from an expert that such a decision would not have been taken without “guidance of the executive”. “If guidance of the executive played a role, then it is probable that such guidance was conveyed to the NMF by Minister Mthethwa,” it reads. “The commission wishes to emphasise that it is not finding that such 'guidance' was given. It is, however, unable in the light of what has been said above to find positively in Minister Mthethwa's favour on the point.” No action was recommended against Mthethwa, now Minister of Arts and Culture.

The commission found that then Minister of Mineral Resources was innocent of allegations of corruption and perjury, and that she had not negatively influenced the police response. The report found that Lonmin did not sufficiently try to engage with workers on ending the strike or protect its employees. Both the National Union of Mineworkers (NUM) and Association of Mineworkers and Construction Union (AMCU) were found not to have full control over their members, while the NUM wrongly advised workers on their ability to negotiate and encouraged members to work, despite the risk of being killed.

The commission recommended that inquiries should be held into the fitness of police leaders, National Police Commissioner Riah Phiyega and North-West Police Commissioner Zukiswa Mbombo. “The leadership of the police, on the highest level, appears to have taken the decision not to give the true version of how it came about that the 'tactical option' was implemented on the afternoon of 16 August, and to conceal the fact that the plan to be implemented was hastily put together without [public order policing] inputs or evaluation,” reads the report. Phiyega was regularly

59 evasive under cross-examination, but the report does not seem to implicate her in the killings.

Mbombo, who retired at the end of May, along with other commanders, likely knew about the killings at scene one before the operation continued to scene two, according to the report. The provincial commissioner said that she was outside the command centre when the news arrived. Other police leaders were also found to have known about the killings when they took place. Mbombo was also slated for not disclosing her meeting with Lonmin's Bernard Mokoena, where they spoke of political influences and reasons to move to a tactical policing phase, when she should have expected it would lead to bloodshed.

At scene one, where the killing of the strikers was captured on camera, the commission found that the police effectively closed off a gap that channelled the mineworkers towards the Tactical Response Team (TRT), while it could have boxed them in. The SAPS failed to use sufficient non-lethal weapons and when they did, the teargas and water cannons had the effect of pushing the miners further towards the TRT. The officers who opened fire with live ammunition, felt a reasonable risk to their lives, the report says, but four people were killed who clearly presented no threat.

At scene two, dubbed the “killing koppie” by some observers, the commission found, “The lack of clarity around the death of the 17 deceased persons at scene two, places the commission in the difficult position of not being able to make findings as to the circumstances surrounding the death of each deceased. To accept or reject any version, with any degree of certainty, requires further interrogation of many factors.”

There were no cartridges found at scene two that could have been fired by the miners (at scene one there was one shot fired by the miners that was caught on camera and one other gun recovered without a full round in the chamber). The commission was not convinced by the SAPS scenarios of what might have happened at scene two. “Apart from the evidence of a reconstruction of the scene by [policing expert] Mr De Rover, the South African Police Service provided no details of what happened with regards to the deaths of most of the deceased at scene two. Where it does provide evidence pertaining to the deaths of some of the deceased, their versions do not, in the commission's view, bear scrutiny when weighed up against the objective evidence.”

60 The commission made a number of recommendations for the National Prosecuting Authority (NPA) to investigate and possibly prosecute, focusing on those who committed the killings rather than those in charge. It recommends that the NPA should investigate two attempted murders on 10 August and the shooting of two strikers by National Union of Mineworkers officials on 11 August. Lonmin should be investigated for knowing the risks but failing to protect employees such as the two security staff who were killed, two assaults, and the killing of a non-striking worker. The NPA has also been recommended to investigate the five deaths on 13 August, and those of two police officers and three strikers.

As for the bloody events of 16 August, the recommendations for the NPA to investigate are: “With regard to scene one and with regard to those members of the South African Police Services, who in firing shots at the strikers may have exceeded the bounds of self and private defence and the delay in conveying medical assistance to scene one, and with regard to scene two, with regard to issues of command and control, the failure to stop the operation after scene one and the possible liability of senior officers in the South African Police Services, the shooting of strikers by various members of the South African Police Services”.

I add my voice to the recommendation that a full team of professionals be appointed to investigate the crime scene to enable them to compile a comprehensive report on the possibility of criminal liability on the part of members of the South African Police Services.

The commission also recommended an investigation of the strikers who carried weapons, against the stipulations of the Dangerous Weapons Act and Gathering Act. The report also suggested a number of recommendations regarding future policing of protests. A panel should be established to review public order policing and analyse international best practice. Decisions should be made by an officer in overall command, with relevant training. Means of communication between police and alternative options should be improved.

“With regards to accountability,” President Jacob Zuma said, summarising the report on Thursday, “where a police operation and its consequences have been controversial, requiring further investigation, the minister and the national commissioner should take care when making public statements or addressing members of the SAPS. They should not say anything which might have the effect of 'closing the ranks' or discourage members who are aware of inappropriate actions, from disclosing what they know.”

61 “The standing orders should more clearly require a full audit trail and an adequate recording of police operations. The SAPS and its members should accept that they have a duty of public accountability and truth-telling, because they exercise force on behalf of all South Africans” (Marikana Commission of Inquiry Report (2015)).

4.4.2 THE PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE MARIKANA MASSACRE

Source: Source: Marikana (2012) Figure 4.8: The Protesting Mineworkers

The picture shows South African platinum miners protesting the miserable conditions their families live in because the Lonmin Corporation refused to pay them a wage equal to roughly $8/hr., which would be a 200% increase over what Lonmin paid them at the time.

62

Source: Source: Marikana (2012) Figure 4.9: The Police and the Dead Mineworkers (A)

Source: Marikana (2012) Figure 4.10: The Police and the Dead Mineworkers (B)

The pictures above show bodies of mineworkers who were shot dead at Marikana.

4.5 CONCLUSION

All in all, the analysis of what happened at the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres impacted on government and were best documented by academic writers. A major failing by the press was not to follow the full flight of the massacres and how they exploded into battles between the miners and police that resulted in violence, leading to the shootings. However, referring to the recent Marikana massacre, COSATU's pandering to the ANC with the resultant emergence of NUMSA in

63 opposition to both, suggests a new period in which labour becomes more overtly political, with consequences for government.

64

CHAPTER 5

PRESENTATION OF FINDINGS AND ANALYSIS

5.1 INTRODUCTION

The methodology described in Chapter Three provides a baseline for data analysis. This chapter investigates the inherent meaning of the research data obtained from the empirical study, by describing the analysis of data followed by a discussion of the research findings. According to De Vos et al. (2002), data analysis entails that the researcher breaks down data into constituent parts to obtain answers to research questions. The analysis of research data alone does not provide answers to research questions, rather, the purpose of interpretation of data is to reduce it to an intelligible and interpretable form so that its relevance to the research problem can be can be ascertained and conclusions may be drawn.

The study’s findings are presented in thematic forms. The main themes that were derived from the study, include the identification of the continuities and discontinuities of political violence in South Africa pre- and post-apartheid, examine the underlying socio-economic and political factors that led to the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres, explore the common denominators among the massacres and to assess the impact of violence and the very factors that triggered the escalation of violence in the first place.

5.2 THEME 1: APARTHEID STATE’S COERCIVE USE OF POWER AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE

Apartheid was based on discrimination, denial and segregation in every area of South African life - social, political, and economic. This discrimination and segregation was premised on the coercive usage of power to justify the end, which was political violence (Landau, 2012: 6). To sustain this end, it required the state to implement legislative frameworks that unjustly supported political violence. This included restricting political activism, increasing the power of the police and, in addition, the subversion of the independence of the courts. Furthermore, it included the creation of conditions in which the usage of torture during interrogation became widespread.

65 The suppression of protest in the Bhisho and Sharpville massacres were justified by two central pieces of legislation, which enabled the state authorities to prohibit and criminalize marches, gatherings and demonstrations. The Riotous Assemblies Act of 1956 enabled the magistrates and the Minister of Justice to control and inhibit public gatherings (MacGarry, O Leary, 2013: 55). Section 2 (1) of the Act capacitates a magistrate, with the authorization of the Minister of Justice, to prohibit a public gathering if s/he was of the opinion that it represented a serious threat to public peace. The Minister of Justice had wide discretion to prohibit a particular public gathering from taking place, or to prohibit a particular person from attending a particular gathering.

Further sections of the Act enabled the Minister to impose blanket bans on gatherings in any public place for such period as he specified. Once prohibited, mere attendance at such a prohibited gathering was not an offence, but all actions relating to the organization of a prohibited gathering were criminalized (Du Toit and Manganyi, 2090:9). Another fundamental legislation was the Suppression of Communism Act 44 of 1950. Section 9(3) of this Act gave the Minister of Justice absolute administrative powers to prohibit gatherings, or to ban gatherings in any area and for any period specified by him. Furthermore, there were various other statutory restrictions such as The internal Security Act 44 of 1950, the Public Safety Act of 1953, and related legislation, such as the Gatherings and Demonstrations Act 52 of 1973, prohibiting gatherings and demonstrations in the precincts of parliament.

Power is always manifested within a relationship that usually comes down to coercion. The truth and reality of power consists of violence. Power is also described as the ability to obtain preferred outcomes, and can be done through coercion and payment or attraction and persuasion (Gledhill, 2000: 7). People associate coercion with military power resources, however that is too reductive. What is called coercion, depends in part on the context of a power relationship. Coercive power depends on fear; people with coercive power have the ability to inflict punishment or aversive sequences on other individuals or make threats about punishment (Owen, 2002: 56). In expectancy terms, this power comes from the expectation of others that they will be punished if they do not conform to the powerful person`s desire.

According to Slater (2010:6), power may comprise anything that establishes and sustain the control of man over man. Thus, power includes social dynamics, where it can be demonstrated, from physical violence to the most subtle psychological ties by

66 which one mind controls another. Power tends to be described as force, regardless of whether the one holding power is the initiator or the responder. Coercive power is defined as the only appropriate response to the illegitimate use of coercive power.

Political sociologists have revealed the forms of nuances of the abstract aspect of power by creating typologies of power. These diverse modalities reflect the nature of power in situations or the characteristics of power as they play a role in the construction of capacity and exchange of resources and distribution of power in society (Gruber, 2000: 5). One of the typologies of power is coercive and dominant power; this form of power usually depends on the use of brute force, or military prowess. The use of coercion for political gain or outcome is a fundamental aspect of power. Coercion is equated with use of force, which is based on the threat or application of punishment or the inducement of rewards to elicit compliance.

5.3 THEME 2: INSTITUTIONALISATION OF POLITICAL VIOLENCE DURING APARTHEID

The apartheid government did not merely depend on the coercive usage of power, but it also relied on the institutionalization of political violence, mainly through the usage of state apparatus like the police, the army and the judiciary, within the context of creating the new security state and the new legislation (Hamber, 2000: 67). The apartheid state embarked on extreme forms of social engineering designed to defend and entrench White minority rule, which had far-reaching consequences. This was a social order already distinctive for deep seated, legalized inequalities premised upon racial classification.

It also encompassed bureaucratic terrorism, which during apartheid involved the use of state power against individuals and groups who were perceived as socially subordinate, and discriminated against, and politically without rights (Marks, 2000: 5). A fundamental feature of this bureaucratic terrorism, was the use of police, in particular, in suppressing crowds such as at the Bhisho and Sharpville massacres. The South African police expended a lot of energy defending their approach to crowds, by specifying the various characteristics of the South African situation, which they claimed, restricted their tactical choice.

There was a difference between policing crowds in other states and within the apartheid context. In western democratic countries, police functioned to avert public

67 disorder during assemblies, gatherings, and upholding the law required avoiding disorder (Dayton, Kriesberg, 2009:45). The key function of South African police officers in controlling riots, was the enforcement of apartheid restrictions on the freedom to assemble and protest. Upholding and enforcing these laws essentially required preventing gatherings from taking place, and dispersing them when they did take place (Ntshoe, 2002: 34). The use of police was mainly supported by a legislative framework; state authorities had passed laws with the express intention of criminalizing public protest, and ensuring the legal space for the application of repression and lethal methodologies.

The legislative provisions were designed to give the police the capacity to enter the grey area between legality and illegality without fear of the consequence (Minnaar, 1994: 45). A key feature of the institutionalization of political violence was the separation of the police from the society; this separation meant that police violence was not viewed in a similar manner to social violence. Police action is not perceived as violent (Hoffman, 1990: 4). On the contrary, it is perceived as a necessary and legitimate form of action in defense of law and order. During the apartheid years state violence and violence perpetuated to further the objectives of the armed struggle were understandably not treated equally by government forces. I hypothesize that the same observation can be made of violence committed to show up social injustice and repressive government responses in the post-apartheid era.

Framed within the context of the illegitimacy of the regime they acted for, and against large-scale mobilization whose purpose was to prevent and disperse gatherings inevitably led to the use of institutionalization of political violence. Political violence was supported by use of institutions like the Judiciary; most anti-apartheid activists were put on trial without legal democratic representation (Bornman, 1998: 4). Most judges were political appointees, who condoned the brutal enforcement of the law as was witnessed at the Bisho and Sharpville massacres. These judges therefore provided apartheid political violence with a veneer of legal respectability.

5.4 THEME 3: RACIAL INEQUALITIES AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE DURING APARTHEID

In order to explore the relationship between social structure and political violence, it has to be acknowledged that political violence is contingent on numerous aspects.

68 These can encompass the relative, social and ideological strengths of opposing political groups and the role that political violence serves to these groups (Treiman, 2005: 25). The impact and manipulation of socio-cultural and ideological contexts might also shape the nature of political violence. Similarly, the blurred dividing line between political and criminal violence might also shape the nature of violent outcomes of social conflict.

The main cause of political violence in South Africa has to be situated within the social matrix and long history of oppression, poverty and exploitation in the country. Central to this was the fact that, from 1948, the apartheid government denied the majority of South Africans access to central political authority and entrenched racially-based and social inequality (Nattrass and Seekings, 2001; : 34). The implementation of basic apartheid measures (such as pass laws, influx control, urban areas restrictions, job reservation, separate amenities, and so on) meant that basic "first generation" human rights - such as the franchise, civil equality, freedom of movement or association - were denied systematically and massively (Durkheim, Mtose, Brown, 2011:21). The brute bureaucratic reality of the apartheid era - an unthinking, everyday denial to individuals of their basic human dignity - is directly analogous to Hannah Arendt's famous characterization of the "banality of evil" in Nazi Germany.

Secondly, the social order underpinned by apartheid also rode roughshod over "second generation" human rights, such as the right to education, health care, housing, security and social welfare (Seekings, 2008: 38). The statistics of racially inscribed inequalities under apartheid are too well known to require detailed recapitulation: whether the measure is infant mortality, nutritional intake, life expectancy, literacy, domestic or per capita earnings, employment levels or property ownership, the findings are the same (Natrass, 2002: 4). Academic studies have shown that according to internationally accepted measurements, South Africa has the unenviable distinction of having the most unequal distribution of income for any economy for which data is available. Apartheid and the callous denial of basic rights that went with it are directly responsible for the fact that as much as half of South Africa's population lives below the "least generously drawn poverty line".

The increasing effect of apartheid laws and government activities between 1948 and the late 1960s was enormous. They assigned political, social, economic and cultural rights to people based on their race (Keswell, 2004: 4). They repressed such basic

69 rights as freedom of movement, freedom of expression, freedom of assembly and freedom of association for millions of South Africans - and they did so, ironically, at the precise juncture that these and related rights were recognized as basic human rights across the globe (Natrass, Seekings,2001:2). The Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted in the same year that the National Party won the Whites-only general election on a platform embracing apartheid and “swart gevaar”.

In the final analysis, all this rested on entrenching the dominance of, and accruing privileges for, the White minority in general, and Afrikaners in particular. This group, and this group only, mattered: to improve its opulence, promote its languages, cultures, education and other amenities, at the expense of the Black majority (Ozler, Hoogeveen, 2005: 3). In the inverse, the warping of white children's minds, their psychological and physical brutalization in the security forces, the fear psychosis and denial of independent thought within the White community - all these mattered not, as long as the National Party elite consolidated its power.

They utilized vertical institutional violence to maintain this inequality, racial superiority and social control. Concerning overt political violence, the state repressed those opposed to it through legalized detentions, convictions and bannings and reacted violently to any resistance to its authority (Bhorat and Kanbur, 2006: 3). State- sanctioned assassinations and harassment were common, often orchestrated directly through official government bodies.

5.5 THEME 4: WHITE MONOPOLY CAPITAL AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE DURING APARTHEID

During the apartheid era, the inequalities of wealth and income and opportunity were mainly racialized. White monopoly capital was at its most cohesive and concentrated during the late phases of apartheid. In 1981, state corporations and eight private- owned conglomerates controlled over 70% of the total assets of the top 138 companies (Southhall, 2004: 11). These spanned the mining, manufacturing, construction, transport, agriculture and finance industries and this monopoly was further concentrated following the increasing political crisis of the 1980s. Foreign companies disinvested and sold their assets locally. Unable to invest abroad during late apartheid, the conglomerates invested their excess capital by buying local assets that were often distant from their core business.

70 By 1990, just three conglomerates- Anglo-American, Sanlam and Old Mutual- controlled a whopping 75% of the total capitalization of the Johannesburg Stock Exchange. Given the overwhelmingly domestic and White nature of the ownership of this astoundingly high level of concentration of capital in a handful of conglomerates, one can refer to this situation as White Monopoly Capital (Marais, 2001: 34). During the apartheid era, White monopoly capital was precisely how South African capital could have been defined. White people were in charge of almost all the wealth and most of the country’s wealth generating capacity. Apartheid was built on capitalism and the domination of White people and that system was legislated and brutally enforced by the state.

White monopoly justified its marginalization of Black natives via the stipulations of legislation like the Land Act of 1913. This act deprived Black people from owning land. The unproductive areas of land were reserved for Black people, who made up 90% of the population, while the White minority (8% of the population) owned 87% of the productive land (Waldmeir, 1997: 3). Consequently, this legislation produced a class of private property owners who wielded their power to dominate and exploit the poor African majority. The original White South African capitalist class emerged within a colonial setting. To increase and enhance its opportunities for profits, the South African capitalist revolution relied on the racial division of labour, which was coded into a battery of racist laws and political exclusiveness (Ponte, Van Sittert, 2007: 7). This racial domination has been maintained under evolving conditions and by numerous means, but it has always been the backbone of South African capitalism.

Although in 1910, the White settler community won their political freedom from British colonialism, Black people in South Africa remained in a colonial relationship with the White settlers through the system of White racial domination. Dozens of laws were passed, including the Population Registration Act of 1950, where people were forced to register their race with the Department of Home Affairs (Bickford-Smith, 1995: 6). Racial classification would determine where you could live, where you could go, what level and quality of education you were going to have, and the kind of work you could do.

The Bantu Education Act of 1953 was intended to ensure that African people received an inferior education to that of other races, in order to ensure that there would always be a pool of cheap Black labor, which could easily be exploited for the benefit of White

71 capital. The apartheid state spent R 644 (US $49) educating a white child compared to the R 42 (US $3) which was spent on an African child (Marais, 2013: 13). African schools were overcrowded and under-resourced, with a teacher-pupil ratio of 58:1. Their teachers were underqualified as the majority of them had not even completed high school. Apartheid deliberately used race as a way to prevent the African majority from accessing quality education.

5.6 THEME 5: PROTEST MOVEMENTS AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE IN THE APARTHEID ERA

Organizing protest action and mobilizing people around "bread and butter issues" are some of the indispensable skills required and acquired by activists during the struggle against apartheid. "Organize or starve" became the clarion call in the people's organizations - labour, women, youth, student and civic movements and so forth (Von Holdt, 2013: 24). Accordingly, community leaders and grassroots organizers became the decisive factor and driving force that sustained popular community uprisings that increasingly rendered apartheid unworkable and apartheid South Africa ungovernable (Mattes, 2012: 17). The South African Communist Party made the following statement: “The articulation of "bread and butter" community grievances into the core narrative of "a national grievance" brought millions of local protesters into the mainstream of the anti-apartheid struggle that was being waged at a national, continental and global level.´ This leads to the question of whether or not the time has arrived to take up the weapon again against injustice and repression.

The importance of social protest in a democratic society, of which Marikana, Sharpeville and Bhisho were certainly features, is stressed by the following statement of the SACP: “Under apartheid, protests were critically important forms of democratic expression in a country where the overwhelming majority were denied the right to participate in processes.” The fact that social protests are being repressed violently again, this time by a liberation government, should give us pause for thought.

The SACP’s rhetoric seems to suggest that the ANC government’s heavy-handedness in managing social conflict points to systemic violence as it did under the apartheid government.

72 Pursuance of social and economic injustice through legalistic redress (as the ANC initially aimed to do during the 1950s and the 1960s) were shown to have limited impact in an uncaring society built on the ruins of a slave culture.

Of course, there are occasions when the youth crossed the line and burnt down symbols of the apartheid state such as municipal beer halls, offices, police vehicles and people. The leadership emphasized that armed struggle was the only legitimate and disciplined form of revolutionary violence that was organized and carried out by trained units of the people's army (Ozlak et al., 2003:8). This included the creation of self-defense units, which protected our people in the face of apartheid sponsored "third force" violence. They were openly directed at the illegitimate state and racist regime that implemented apartheid, which was declared a crime against humanity. The purpose and forces behind the community protests were essentially the same: they were an integral part of the struggle for freedom and democracy (Thorn, 2006: 16). Although the issues varied from area to area, the racist character and undemocratic nature of the apartheid system was at the centre of the community protests. At times, they were spontaneous, while most of the time they were organised and planned as part and parcel of a conscious effort to build alterative organs of people's power.

5.7 THEME 6: CRIMINALISATION OF PROTEST AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE IN THE POST-APARTHEID ERA

The death of 34 striking and violently protesting mineworkers on 16 August 2012, shot by members of elite South African tactical police units in what has now become known as the Marikana Massacre, captured international attention. The Marikana Massacre can justifiably be argued to occupy the extreme end of the spectrum when assessing the government’s reactions to protests and demonstrations (Alexander, 2012: 56). I argue that there are significant and troubling parallels to be drawn from the apartheid government’s response to social injustice and that of the so-called liberation party in post-apartheid South Africa. Bureaucratic delays in processing applications for marches and sustained attempts to frustrate social protests as occurred under the old regime have returned to haunt us.

The Regulation of Gatherings Act 205 of 1993 (“the Gatherings Act”) came into effect at the end of 1996. The Gatherings Act is the primary law regulating assemblies, demonstrations and gatherings in South Africa. The Gatherings Act is a notable

73 improvement on preceding laws used during the apartheid era (Alexander, 2010: 7). Previously, South African law provided the government with unrestrained powers to ban any gathering at any place or area and for any period. Since 2004, South Africa has experienced a significant number of local protests in poor urban areas.

These protests are often referred to as ‘service delivery’ protests as they are frequently related to the inadequate socio-economic conditions of poor communities. In many respects, poor communities can view these protests as a claim for the realisation of socio-economic rights (Atkinson, 2007: 4).

The mandate of the police during protest, should be determined by the Regulations of Gatherings Act (205 of 1993), as well as the rights stipulated in the Constitution, which highlights freedom of expression as well as the right to engage in peaceful protest and demonstrations. However, while guidelines on how to police protest are made clear in this legislation, the SAPS have been accused of not adhering to this and dealing with protest inappropriately. For example, there have been cases where essentially illegal blanket bans have been imposed on protests. This undermines the authority of the municipalities and their role in facilitating and authorizing protests (Duncan, 2010:23).

In February 2015, four community activists from Boiketlong in the Vaal, south of Johannesburg, were sentenced to 16 years in prison each, following a community protest. This is a very severe sentence and the conviction was based on shaky evidence (Nebambula, 2015: 34). The ‘Boiketlong Four’ were arrested for allegedly attacking the local ANC ward councilor and setting fire to her shack and two cars during a community protest. They were convicted of assault with intent to cause grievous bodily harm, arson and malicious injury to property.

Faced with increased discontent and protest in response to its own lack of political will and its inability, due to the anti-working class neoliberal policies it has adopted, to even begin to fulfill its promises and implement wide-scale development, upgrading of townships, land reform, service delivery and job creation across the country, the ANC government is increasingly responding with the criminalization of protest in order to suppress and contain social struggles and working class resistance (Chinguno, 2013:14).

In 2013, 10 SJC activists chained themselves to the steps of the Cape Town Civic Centre in protest, demanding better sanitation in Khayelitsha and other poor

74 communities around the city. Although 11 other supporters subsequently joined them, the protest was both peaceful and unarmed, and did not disrupt access to the Civic Centre. Regardless of this, the metro police arrested them.

They had failed to notify the city authorities prior to the protest (https://www.dailymaverick.co.za/article/). All 21 members of SJC were charged with contravening the Regulation of Gatherings Act 205 of 1993. The Gatherings Act states that it is a crime if more than 15 people convene or attend a gathering without providing notice to the authorities. The Cape Town magistrate’s court therefore found that the 10 were guilty of contravening the Gatherings Act for convening a gathering without notice. The 11 supporters were cautioned and discharged without criminal records.

5.8 THEME 7: THE NARRATIVE OF THE RAINBOW NATION AND ECONOMIC INEQUALITIES

Habib (1997: 17) asserts that the apartheid system exploited the dissimilarities in race, culture and gender. In 1994, South Africa ushered in a new ideology of rainbowism for the sake of nation building (Habib, 1997: 17). This new national belief gave emphasis to establishing a common ground and sameness rather than a focusing on differences and was used as a means to combat racism and discrimination (Welsh, 2000: 7). The new rainbowism ideology promotes an image of different races of people uniting and co-existing in peace. According to Habib (1997: 17), there are two isolated, but interconnected, features of this metaphor that need to be separated and interrogated.

Habib (1997: 17) believes that the first focus is on racial groups, which assumes that the tension that exists in South Africa was, and still is, racially oriented. Secondly, the harmonizing appeal suggests that the experiment of a new democratic South Africa which reached its highest peak in the April 1994 elections, was consolidating itself (Habib, 1997: 17). South Africa’s transition process, similar to other nations, takes place under circumstances of heightened expectations (Walker, 2005: 89). The public is hopeful that the new democratic government protects not only their human rights and civil liberties, but will also improve their material standard of living (Habib, 1997: 17).

As Adam Habib (citation needed) points out, a significant move for the “democratic experiment” in South Africa away from ownership patterns structured along racial lines would demand a structural transformation.

75 A census in 2011 showed that White South Africans still remain in control of Africa’s most advanced economy, with incomes for White households nearly six times above those of Black families, who constitute 80 percent of the population. A report by South Africa’s Institute of Race Relations (IRR) last year, showed that poverty among Blacks was at 42 percent on average, against just one percent for Whites. White males still occupy more of the chief executive positions in the country’s biggest companies.

5.9 THEME 8: POST-APARTHEID INEQUALITIES AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE

The mainstay of South Africa’s economic sector, the mines, relied on cheap Black labour even before the apartheid era. Mineworkers in particular, have undergone ill- treatment historically. During the apartheid era, besides the low income they earned, five Soweto hostels, which accommodated 13,000 workers, housed about three times that number (Roberts, 2004: 56). About 125,000 migrant workers were housed in 31 hostels in the townships around Johannesburg. Such poor treatment persists in the present South Africa, as mineworkers were expected to live on a R4,734 salary, despite the arduous work they engaged in.

During the apartheid era, the South African economy was developed via racial division and the marginalization of some racial groups. Through the means of violence, Whites benefitted from the political economy of apartheid and in the post-apartheid era, they continue to reap the advantages of the past (Leibbrandt, Finn, Woolard, 2012: 9). In the present South Africa, unemployment, poverty and poor living conditions are concentrated among the groups disadvantaged by apartheid, especially the Blacks. It remains a challenge to address the economic inequality engendered by apartheid.

The apartheid constraints as endorsed in the Bantu Education Act of 1953 that established an inferior education system for Africans, the Bantu Authorities Act of 1950 and the Native Administration Act of 1957 that enforced a separatist development programme for Africans, limited the ability of non-Whites to develop socially and economically (Duncan, 2009: 13). Moreover, via the Industrial Conciliation Act of 1956, the non-White population were only able to be employed in menial and low paying jobs, while Whites enjoyed the privilege of being employed for different kinds of skilled and better paying job opportunities (Seekings, 2007: 67). Inevitably, such a non- proportional arrangement had effects that spilled over to the current South Africa. The

76 decades of Bantu education, under-education and reliance on low-wage employment created a huge under-educated and poor population in the present South Africa.

Blacks lived in townships without basic infrastructure while Whites lived in suburbs that were well resourced. The forceful dispossession of properties and marginalization of the disadvantaged groups led to the current problem of landlessness and poverty in the country. In a bid to democratize, post-apartheid South African government called for forgiveness and the forgetting of the past (Ramose, 2011: 7). It somehow adopted Robert Nozick’s idea of distributive justice by ignoring the cruel means by which apartheid’s beneficiaries amassed their riches. In the post-apartheid South Africa, the country endorses a right to property as outlined in the 1993 constitution and the 1996 constitution. No property could be expropriated without a just and equitable compensation (Henrard 2002: 33). Hence, the government tended to legitimize the violence of apartheid.

5.10 THEME 9: NEO-LIBERALISM AND POST-APARTHEID VIOLENCE

Post-apartheid South Africa had two choices in this context, which were to continue the struggle in the context of transition to realize historical aspirations and the non- racial South African dream, or to capitulate to the neoliberal onslaught (Hart, 2002: 3). The future of South Africa is not foreclosed by the neoliberal capitalist assault on our national integrity. It is still possible to explore other options for a brighter tomorrow for all South Africans.

First, according to Satgar (2012b), a global anti-apartheid movement was taking place, together with a highly organized mass movement in South Africa, which was being led by the United Democratic Front (UDF). Though the UDF mass movement was facing its own challenges, it was immersed in a grass-roots activist tradition of people’s power (Satgar, 2012b). This was in direct contrast with the centralized control structures of the exiled African National Congress (ANC) and the South African Communist Party (SACP) (Satgar, 2012b). It was this tradition of people’s power, expressed through associational and participatory democracy that united thousands of South African citizens in 1989 to protest in the streets nonviolently and open opposition to the banning of the mass movement (Satgar, 2012b). This paralleled what was going on in Eastern Europe (Van Kessel, 2000: 10). Unfortunately, with the unbanning of the ANC

77 and SACP, the UDF was immediately disbanded without any serious strategic deliberation.

Secondly, there was the defeat of the South African Defense Force in Angola, due to the presence of Cuban armed forces, and the realization of the ruling elite that its existence could only be secured through surrendering power to the previously oppressed majority (Houston, 1999:4). The regime could still resort to low intensity violence inside South Africa which intensified especially when Chris Hani, an SACP general secretary, was assassinated, which proved to be the last straw (Satgar, 2012b).

Thirdly, South Africa’s liberation struggle and democratic breakthrough in 1994 could have been a key moment in this upswing of resistance to neoliberalism dynamisms. According to Satgar (2012b), across Africa, there was an increasing wave of resistance to neoliberalization and a genuine belief that liberation struggle in South Africa would intensify the radical impulse for change. This resistance movement was the rise of a new cycle of struggle which was a neoliberal capitalism counter- movement (Satgar, 2012b). This was punctuated by Chiapas (1994), Seattle (1999) and more generally the ‘red tide’ in Latin America, and now the ‘Arab spring’ and mass protest movements in Spain, Greece and elsewhere.

Fourthly, the structural crisis and stagnation of a monopolized apartheid capitalism necessitated a process of economic restructuring that provided an opportunity for reconstruction and development on the terms of the oppressed majority rather than those of capital (Goldberg, 2009: 67). Ironically, even the World Bank in the early 1990s, in its interventions on the South African macro-economic policy, accepted the need for a redistributive approach, given the historical legacies of racialized deprivation and exclusion.

Despite this, the ANC-led liberation movement chose not just reconciliation (which is what most South Africans wanted) but appeasement. This meant that White monopoly capital was not called upon to take responsibility for its complicity under apartheid and to commit to a serious transformative program, even though the conditions existed for this. Instead, it was given what it wanted in terms of neoliberal reforms and economic stability (Desai, 2002: 7). According to Satgar (2012b), efforts to create a new Black middleclass through measures like corporate social responsibility, tax payments and

78 Black economic empowerment, were thought to be necessary and a normalizing quid pro quo, however, they did not work since most monopoly firms moved abroad.

Instead of pursuing the dream of a transformed and non-racial South Africa, the ANC- led national liberation movement relied on neoliberal reforms with an African voice to bring a ‘better life for all’. The presumption was that South Africa would manage homegrown neo-liberalization as a short-term expedient in a different way from the rest of Africa and, indeed, the world (Chinguno, 2013: 10). Thus, post-apartheid South Africa moved in a straight historical line from apartheid into a market-led development model, sometimes referred to as ‘Afro-neoliberalism.’

Seventeen years later, a virtue has been made out of necessity. The great globalization leap of national liberation has been a great leap into dystopia. The deepening of the South African economy’s immersion into global financial, production and trade structures through macro-economic adjustment has produced a country with one of the highest unemployment rates in the world (Madlingozi, 2007: 33).

The GEAR strategy was aligned closely to the International Monetary Fund’s structural adjustment programs. The GEAR strategy favors a neoliberal market economy, which emphasizes economic growth. The post-apartheid South African government adopted a neoliberal approach to economic development, an approach that intends to address the issue of poverty via economic growth. Commendably, South Africa’s economy has developed immensely. However, while the formal economy grew and benefitted a small, rich elite, living human conditions were jeopardized for the masses (Seekings and Nattrass, 2008: 5; Whyte, 2009: 17). Thus, the growth in the economy, which drives GEAR, does not translate into reduced inequality and poverty.

The GEAR strategy has failed enormously in bridging the gap between the rich and the poor. While the current economic structure requires skilled labour, the majority of the population has suffered years of apartheid’s Bantu Education, which produced under-educated and unskilled masses (Seekings, 2007: 1). Thus, unemployment and poverty levels remain high. This continues to put the country at the risk of violence. As identified by SAPS (2007: 27), the main causes of violent crimes are unemployment and poverty, as well as the abuse of drugs and alcohol (Whyte, 2009:18). The drugs and alcohol-related violence committed by people from below standard living conditions points to the country’s failure to address the poverty and inequalities in the

79 country. Alcohol and drug abuse has become a recourse for some people who try to deal with their trauma and socio-economic challenges (MRC Policy Brief 2009).

5.11 THEME 10: THE NARRATIVE OF THE THIRD FORCE IN POST- APARTHEID AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE

The underbelly of contemporary South Africa is a place of fractured hope, desperation, uncertainty and alienation. It is a place in which apartheid patterns of exclusion and degradation spawn shack settlements, where hunger stalks as the link between wage earning and social reproduction has been broken, and where basic needs such as healthcare, education and clean drinking water are an uphill battle.

Liberal colonial occupation and the massacre have never been far apart in history. When subject populations resist the liberal gift they are supposed to express gratitude for, the response has been to reveal the ultimate authority that gives law its power: violence (Ellis, 1998: 44). The nature of mass action and grass-roots activism between apartheid and post-apartheid South Africa has clearly changed. From a source of activism to transform society for the better, the masses are now seen as merely a means to enrich those at the top. The developmental state views the population through the lens of administration. It brings to bear experts who devise techniques and technical solutions.

The post-apartheid state is producing the largest archive of policy documents drawn up by local and foreign consultants. We are in a cycle of plans and new plans. However, as many will admit in the state, implementation of these plans is another story (Zikode, 2006: 56). Majoritarian rule has been interpreted by the state to mean rule on behalf of the majority not rule of the majority. Given the legacy of apartheid, most Black South Africans - the majority that votes - are the same majority living in poverty and the target population of developmental upliftment. How did it happen that the masses who brought the liberation party to power are now considered a management problem? If the majority is now seen as a problem to be managed for the government, the demise of the idea of the ‘popular’ that this entails is truly a turning point in South African politics.

When these populations start asserting themselves as they are doing now, they quickly shift from being considered targets of development to targets of repression (Sinwell, 2011: 45). They are easily labelled and named as impatient and ungrateful,

80 automatons of external interference, "third forces", counter-revolutionaries or political opportunists. Today, the high rate of protest in South Africa is often attributed to a "third force", often assumed to be linked to foreign intelligence agencies, opposition political parties and White intellectuals. The ANC also often refers to protestors and other critics as "counter-revolutionaries”.

5.12 CONCLUSION

It is clear from the above that the events of Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana, which led to the massacres, had some unwarranted consequences in South Africa. Therefore, in order to speedily remedy the situation in Sharpeville, Bhisho and a post- Marikana South Africa, the following is recommended: the creation of conditions for peaceful and free union activity, with regard to all structures legitimately representing workers (including action against those who terrorize union leaders or prevent workers from assembling and organizing peacefully); requiring employers to participate in centralized bargaining structures, which need to be able to address the concerns raised by workers; the renewal of union structures to ensure that there are proper processes of democratic representation and accountability by union leaders; action to be taken in addressing the living conditions of mining communities and to ensure decisive implementation of Mining Charter commitments; and national engagement on transformation of the mining sector and the economy as a whole.

81

CHAPTER 6

CONCLUSION, SUMMARY AND RECOMMENDATIONS

6.1 INTRODUCTION

The previous chapter dealt with analysis and interpretation of data obtained using relevant documentary material. This chapter presents a brief summary of the research findings from where conclusions and recommendations are derived. The findings obtained from both the literature review and empirical investigation on the continuities and discontinuities in South African political violence (Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres being cases in point) are presented.

6.2 SUMMARY OF FINDINGS

The main purpose of this study was to explore the continuities and discontinuities in South African political violence, using the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres as case studies. My factual findings are: it is interesting to note that on the surface, the Marikana massacre was brought to a head as a result of labour unrest, while the Sharpeville and Bhisho massacres were due to political ‘unrest’ or ‘protest’. The latter two took place in the context of a racist, apartheid minority government, while the former occurred under a supposedly ‘caring’, post-apartheid inclusive government. Essentially, however, both point to a level of government intervention, if not suppression of popular sentiment, which speaks of indifference to legitimate demands for reform. That Cyril Ramaphosa felt entitled to unleash the police with live ammunition on the strikers, while he had a vested interest as a shareholder of Lonmin, in the dispute between the workers and the mine management, speaks volumes for the widening rift between the governing party in post-apartheid South Africa and their commitment to their furthering and protecting the rights of the broader South African community. It also shows up a continuity of greed that runs from apartheid South Africa to the democratic, post-apartheid version. The government’s willingness (then and now) to engage democratic discontent with violence, is disturbing. Finally, the police, now known metaphorically as the ‘South African Police Services’, does not seem to

82 have learned much from their predecessor under the previous regime in terms of crowd control and an almost knee-jerk response of violence to democratic protest.

From a conceptual point of view, the nature of government response to democratic protest, whether legitimate or not, has shown a consistent, albeit disturbing, trend to containment with violence, both during the apartheid regime and under the democratic governance of the ANC.

6.2.1 SHARPEVILLE AND BHISHO MASSACRE FINDINGS

The main findings of the Sharpeville and Bhisho massacres suggest that political violence in South Africa has to be located within the social matrix and the long history of oppression, poverty and exploitation in the country. As I note above, there happens to be shocking and unacceptable continuities between massacres committed during apartheid and Marikana. It is also significant that no one has been held responsible for the police brutality in either era. Central to this, was the fact that from 1948, the apartheid government denied the majority of South Africans access to central political authority and entrenched racially based social inequality. The state used vertical institutional violence to maintain this inequality, racial superiority and social control. But the post-apartheid democratically elected government is also guilty of perpetuating violence against democratic protest (which often addresses legitimate concerns).

Apartheid, as a system, comprised of two ideological themes of White supremacy that attempted to guarantee racial peace and maintain a pure White race. The first theme was segregation as means of domination. The second was segregation as trusteeship, which allowed Africans to express themselves fully within their own communities. Apartheid may thus be seen as a system of institutionalized violence, in that its success could only be achieved by repressive means of law enforcement.

In the face of ongoing repression and the blockage of all legal and peaceful channels of protest, the African National Congress (ANC) and other liberation movements resorted to the armed struggle. This reactive violence, coupled with continued repressive violence by the state, resulted in the growth of political violence over the next three decades, culminating in the intensified political violence of the 1980s. The period between 1990 and 1994 was marked by unprecedented inter- and intra - community violence in South Africa. Simpson and Rauch (1992) argue that this violence was facilitated by the deregulation of the overly repressive forms of social

83 control that had characterized the apartheid state. They further argued that competition within impoverished communities over access to scarce resources also triggered and sustained violence during the transition.

The new South African government has inherited a range of state institutions, largely intact from the old regime, as a consequence of the negotiated settlement. These institutions, particularly those of the criminal justice system, have been inherited along with popular mistrust (Simpson and Rauch, 1992). The 1994 election heralded the so- called transition to democracy in South Africa. Although political violence decreased significantly, other types of violence, particularly violent crimes, continued to increase. Political violence also continued, albeit at lower levels than during the negotiations.

6.2.2 MARIKANA MASSACRE FINDINGS

The main findings of the media narrative on the economy of mining operations at Marikana, suggest firstly that although there have been attempts to modernize the mining sector and to rid it of the exploitative migrant labor system of the gold industry, not much has been achieved. Certainly the changes do not constitute what might be expected from the platinum industry, one of the most lucrative resources in the world. The mining sector continues to depend on relatively cheap labor. There are changes in the way migrancy is handled, but they undermine the security of workers and do not provide permanent employment. A large part of the workforce is brought in on contracts.

It is now 20 years since the end of apartheid and the birth of the new democratic South Africa. While the mining industry has done away with most of its mass housing of workers in single-sex hostels, one of the main blights in the mining industry, most workers now live in rural and peri-urban poverty, many having brought their families to the proximity of the mines. This lack of proper housing and services and their de- humanizing working conditions, opens up the human interest story of employment in mining. What emerges in the economic narrative on the platinum industry, is a description of the extreme inequality between mine owners and shareholders and their staff, compared with the mine workers. South Africa experienced the biggest strike in its mining history with rolling strikes over 20 months, culminating in a final 5 months of continuous strike action. The media reported that 40% of global platinum production was lost, a combined loss of Rand 24-billion (US$ 2.25-billion) in lost revenue to

84 Lonmin, Anglo-American Platinum and Impala Platinum. The press coverage lacked sufficient details of the shootings, and were unable to provide a rationale behind the police action. Explanations of the factors that led to the shootings, required this study to include reference to the findings of the Farlam Commission of Inquiry (2015) into the shootings as well as Desai's film: ‘Miners Shot Down’ (2014). The Police’s version of events that led to the Marikana massacre was convincingly demonstrated to be unreliable if not down-right false (Rehad Desai's Miners Shot Down, 2014).

It is explicitly argued that the police action was finally based on fear and a need for revenge. On the one hand, understanding the anger and fear that the police felt after finding their two colleagues hacked to death with machetes (pangas) three days before 'D-Day' should have provided the ANC with the foresight to control the police carefully from that point onwards. On the other hand, it is also clear that the striking miners, armed to meet violence with violence, were ‘acting out’, to some extent at least, for the benefit of the media and South Africans at large. The media attention was likely to give huge publicity to their demands both nationally and internationally.

The narratives used in this study were gleaned from many sources. However, Emdon (2015) argues that some media agencies, such as the City Press, provided notable insight and detail into the social lives of protesting Marikana mine workers like Mambush, while others such as Business Day, Mail and Guardian and Daily Maverick provided most of the main narrative, while the foreign press such as The Guardian provided a fuller social and political context of the South African story.

Secondly, the media failed to investigate and detail the social and political impact of the police shootings on the tripartite ruling partners in government. The ad hoc nature of the events that appeared to be informal and 'wildcat', but which were like a gathering storm that led to the fateful events of the shootings at Marikana, did not receive an adequate coverage and were overtaken by the gravity and impact of the events.

6.3 RECOMMENDATIONS

Using Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana as my frame of reference, the researcher makes recommendations below with regard to the continuities and discontinuities in South African political violence based on the findings of this study, noted above, and a review of the extant literature. The following recommendations are suggested for consideration.

85 6.3.1 SHARPEVILLE AND BHISHO MASSACRES

The Sharpeville and Bhisho massacres happened due to political unrest, hence the shootings and the mass funeral that followed captured in the form of text and pictures, invited very negative reactions from the international world. For good reason, the South African government was condemned by the media, political organizations and prominent individuals throughout the world. Since the wounds and memory of the massacres might have been fresh in the minds of the victims and families of victims, it is recommended that they must be compensated by government for their loss. If prescription of claims is a problem, the present government must address this issue to ensure that appropriate compensation is awarded to the victims and/or their families.

The funeral of victims of massacres should be conducted according to the wishes of family members, in accordance with family and cultural values. The venue used for the funeral service should not be turned into a political platform at the expense of the close family members, who then become passive spectators at the expense of their rightful opportunity to grief. In any event, the apartheid government has come and gone and their credibility has never been a serious issue. An issue of greater moment is the lessons we are able to glean from these massacres, notably the continuities (violence and intolerance for democratic protest) between the events.

6.3.2 MARIKANA MASSACRE

It has taken a full three years for much of the story to unfold, either through the ongoing work of the commission, investigations by academics, and reflective pieces by journalists. There is a need for investigative journalism in South Africa to make better use of its methods of investigation and information-gathering, especially in the social sciences. At Marikana, this shift would have required the media at large to engage the state, the mining companies and the trade unions in how they might best address the lack of basic education and literacy of miners; the need to engage in such issues as 'resettlement' of families and social participation in urban life and the building of communities with the attendant educational, welfare and health services. Marikana was a defining moment in South Africa's post-apartheid history, and will continue to draw on the conscience of a nation and the capabilities of the watchdogs of the nation,

86 the media, as a service, while society is grappling with integrating the social values of the new society.

Given the Marikana massacre, the following are also recommended: the creation of conditions for peaceful and free union activity, with regard to all structures legitimately representing workers (including action against those who terrorize union leaders or prevent workers from assembling and organizing peacefully); requiring employers to participate in centralized bargaining structures, which need to be able to address the concerns raised by workers; the renewal of union structures to ensure that there are proper processes of democratic representation and accountability by union leaders; action to be taken in addressing the living conditions of mining communities and to ensure decisive implementation of Mining Charter commitments; and national engagement on transformation of the mining sector and the economy as a whole.

The strikers at Marikana were not led by Marxist theory or a socialist ideal but the massacre did spark countrywide protest immediately. It also inspired people who have been struggling for access to land, to name a land occupation in the Western Cape and two in Kwa-Zulu Natal. That these incidents happened after Marikana, testifies to its potential for informing the future of social and economical protest in post-apartheid South Africa. In both cases, Mpondo people were prominent organizers. These acts of defiance form part of a larger ongoing resistance to the corruption, greed, and nationalist politics of the ANC-led government. Within this resistance, we find at every level the everyday politics of race, class, gender, dignity and respect which coalesce around life on the mines in South Africa.

It is because of the history of colonialism and apartheid in South Africa that Fanon’s (1976) warning, “Marxist analysis should always be slightly stretched every time we have to do with the colonial problem. Everything up to and including the very nature of pre-capitalist society, so well explained by Marx, must be thought out again” becomes even more apparent. We must thus begin to recommend and re-think the frameworks used to analyze the causes of the different massacres. These do not deal with the (presumed) inter-action between community politics and workers’ organization and the political tools workers employ that do not find their articulation through class analysis. The subaltern sphere of politics which has persisted outside of the current government’s elite or patronage calls for a renewed openness to the way in which people actually organize. A further aspect that demands reconsideration, is how

87 democratic protest should be respected and how government and other authority structures should respond with care to these eruptions of legitimate protest within a democratic context that allows for democratic expressions of concern or protest (such as Marikana). After three hundred years of oppression, South Africans are entitled unapologetically to voice their democratic concerns without fear of violence or death from a government supposedly elected into power to protect those rights.

6.4 AREAS OF FURTHER STUDY

Nonetheless, one cannot claim that the topic has been exhausted. The topic has potential for and deserves an in-depth study (at doctoral level) since it underlines a powerful historical force, namely, the continuities and discontinuities in South Africa political violence (noted above) as demonstrated in the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres. New research on the training, control and command of members of the South African Police Services is urgently needed to ensure that where the police deal with members of the public engaged in legitimate democratic protest, the propensity for violence is defused and the official response to such ruptures are consistent with the provisions embedded in the South African Constitution.

6.5 CONCLUDING REMARKS

This study aimed to explore the continuities and discontinuities in South African political violence, with reference to the Sharpeville, Bhisho and Marikana massacres. There have been several issues discussed which are worth reiterating, to connect with and conclude the main arguments. This analysis was framed by an attempt to redress the narrow focus Sharpeville has been given in the dominant historical narrative as only being important as the site of the massacre of 1960 and then followed by the Bhisho massacre. During the apartheid regime, a high level of state repression, punctuated by the Sharpeville and Bhisho outrages, was in evidence throughout the country. The 1960s in South Africa also ushered in an economic upturn and thus some of the grievances regarding unemployment that had sparked dissatisfaction in the late 1950s, were tempered. Furthermore, the PAC, which played a critical role in the organizing in 1960, was banned and went through an organizational crisis in the early 1960s. The organization, which did not constitute itself from a grassroots base in South Africa, was not able to maintain a significant presence in Sharpeville and Bhisho,

88 following the massacre. In addition to these factors, since Sharpeville and Bhisho had no consistent tradition of political organizing, after these massacres, there was no political formation that was able to regroup and reconstitute itself.

Given the post-apartheid Marikana massacre, one can conclude that the creation of conditions for peaceful and free union activity is needed, with regard to all structures legitimately representing workers (including action against those who terrorize union leaders or prevent workers from assembling and organizing peacefully). Employers should participate in centralized bargaining structures, which need to be able to address the concerns raised by workers. Union structures should be renewed to ensure that there are proper processes of democratic representation and accountability by union leaders. Action should be taken in addressing the living conditions of mining communities and to ensure decisive implementation of Mining Charter commitments. There should be national engagement in transformation of the mining sector and the economy as a whole. More importantly, the government should be held responsible for the violence with which it meets democratic grievances (something that has by now become almost a norm). These outrages are simply unacceptable in a democratic dispensation and if government is able to skirt its responsibility, then it is time for South Africans to ask why this is possible. Another very important consideration is police response. How is it that police in this day and age can engage a crowd without training in crowd control and sensitivity awareness on democratic expression of discontent? In any other democratically elected government in the world, the president (or another responsible government minister or ministers) would be forced to resign. Why are our leaders able to escape political scrutiny and sanction? As South Africans, these questions demand thorough soul- searching that go beyond party-political loyalties and issues.

There is still a significant amount of research that is necessary in South Africa, with its politically vibrant history remaining largely un-researched. Furthermore, this research could be substantiated by interviews with state officials in an attempt to make up for the lack of archives. A more thorough engagement with the intricacies of using bio politics as a theoretical framework through which to consider South African history, may be a highly interesting project. This research report hopes to initiate a much- needed debate or narrative around the investigation of continuities and discontinuities in South Africa’s political violence. In this discussion, Sharpeville, Bhisho and

89 Marikana serve as valuable points of departure in drawing lessons from the past to rationally organize the future of our still-fledgling democracy.

90

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