Solidarity vows to bring Lonmin to its knees
Mining company breaks agreement on worker representation by giving in to Amcu’s demands
LONMIN is at it again, it appears, stuffing things up for the mining sector.
This time the world’s thirdlargest platinum-mining company has invited a showdown with Solidarity after informing the trade union out of the blue that, from November 14, it will have no organisational or bargaining rights at the company. It will not be allowed to represent its members there in any way, shape or form.
Lonmin’s high-handed action is in flagrant breach of the framework agreement for a sustainable industry, which was negotiated in July by Deputy President Kgalema Motlanthe to end the labour unrest that has plagued the mining industry since what many perceive as Lonmin’s bungling helped to trigger the Marikana massacre in August 2012.
The agreement commits all signatories to the abolition of the winner-takes-all, majoritarian principle whereby only the union with majority support is recognised. It was signed on behalf of Lonmin by the Chamber of Mines.
By disregarding it, Lonmin is removing from its employees their right to be represented by the union of their choice. “Lonmin is in breach of that agreement and is starting the whole spiral of tension again,” says Solidarity general secretary Gideon du Plessis. “It has put the integrity of that framework agreement in the spotlight.”
Motlanthe’s spokesman said that enforcing the agreement was up to the stakeholders.
Du Plessis says if Lonmin is allowed to get away with it, it will confirm the view that the much trumpeted agreement is “just another government PR exercise”.
The Chamber of Mines is scrambling desperately to resolve the situation, but Lonmin said it was between a rock and a hard place. The Association of Miners and Construction Union (Amcu) threatened to strike if it was not given sole recognition.
Du Plessis says he will bring Lonmin to its knees quicker and more effectively than Amcu ever could.
Amcu may have the numbers, but Solidarity, which has 1 400 members at Lonmin, including artisans, engineers and geologists, has the skills.
“We just need seven of our
Twenty years ago, yes. But I can tell you that in 2013 it is not the case — on whether Solidarity is still an apartheid union
members — the seven hoist drivers — to go on strike,” says Du Plessis. “That’s all it will take to bring their whole operation to a standstill.”
They control the cages that transport the miners. They are “legal appointments”, says Du Plessis. “Nobody else can control the cages.”
He says when Amcu submitted its demand for an exclusive recognition agreement, Lonmin promised Solidarity behind the scenes it would never sign it. But the pressure got to the company and, not for the first time, it caved in.
Two days before the August 16 Marikana anniversary, Lonmin phoned Solidarity to say it was sending the union an e-mail regarding its derecognition.
“We were totally, totally taken by surprise,” says Du Plessis. “I told them guys, we’re going to put up one hell of a fight. And we will make sure that when we’re finished with your brand, it will be worth nothing. They said: ‘Well, it’s one of those things.’ ”
Two days later, Lonmin’s new CEO, Ben Magara, addressed the miners at the anniversary commemorating the Marikana tragedy. He was hailed for his courage, but Du Plessis was not impressed.
“The deposit he paid for their goodwill was the signing of that recognition agreement two days before. He bought their loyalty with that agreement and he will pay the price.”
At a meeting with Solidarity a week ago, Lonmin’s vice-president for human capital, Abey Kgotle, said the company was left with no alternative because Amcu is very powerful.
“He said they hoped we would understand. Basically they were telling us they had no choice but to make a bad decision. I told them there would be major consequences. He said they knew and they were very worried. It’s just mind-boggling.”
It seems that Lonmin’s leadership may be divided about the decision to deny Solidarity recognition.
There is an extraordinary clause in the agreement Lonmin signed with Amcu. It says that in the event of an excluded union embarking on a strike that will “severely hinder” operations, the employer will be entitled “in consultation with Amcu” to grant the union organisational rights and collective bargaining rights. In other words, restore its recognition.
A senior Lonmin executive brought this particular page of the agreement to Solidarity’s office with the relevant clause circled, placed it on a desk, winked and walked out. “That’s how Solidarity became aware of it,” says Du Plessis.
He thinks Lonmin is trying “with one symbolic gesture to erase their tainted image, to wipe out their bad past”.
“They think this is the end of the power struggle with Amcu, but Amcu almost certainly regards it as just the beginning.”
Given the aforementioned clause in its recognition agreement with Amcu, it is hard to imagine how Lonmin can get away with it.
Du Plessis thinks Magara, who declined a request for an interview, and his top executives have been misled.
“I don’t think they understand the gist of the issue and the potential impact it may have on them. They were guided by their own specialists in this field and I think they were totally illadvised.”
He refers to Lonmin’s “track record of making bad decisions”. Partly, he believes, this is because historically the company has been ruled from London by suits with little understanding of the conditions or culture on the platinum mines. Partly it is because the locals are “out of their depth and simply don’t know how to deal with these complex issues”.
As might be imagined, relations between Solidarity and Amcu are not friendly at all.
“Amcu makes no bones about its dislike for Solidarity,” says Du Plessis. First, because of its close relationship with the National Union of Mineworkers (NUM), which lost its dominant status to Amcu last year; second, because of what Du Plessis calls “the ideological gap”.
Amcu leader Joseph Mathunjwa refers to Solidarity as “the apartheid trade union”. He and Du Plessis have met on radio in two debates that “didn’t go down too well”, and once face to face in a meeting that became “a war of words”.
“There is no love lost between us at the moment,” says Du Plessis.
So is Solidarity an apartheid union? “Twenty years ago, yes. But I can tell you that in 2013 it is not the case.”
His membership is 30% black and would have been more were it not for agreements with the NUM not to sign up its more skilled members.
Du Plessis, 44, got an honours degree in political science and labour sociology at the University of Pretoria before joining the international facilitation management company Compass Group plc.
For 12 years he was responsible for its labour relations in 16 African countries.
“From a point of view of cultural diversity, you can’t tell me anything,” he says.
He was head-hunted by Solidarity. At first he did not want to join because “I had the impression of it as very conservative, and I am very liberal, more part of the new South Africa than the old South Africa”. After three months he agreed to a meeting and decided it was “a lot more verlig ” (more enlightened) than he had expected.
Du Plessis likes to think that Lonmin will not survive its hamhanded response to events.
“I think every day they are closer to becoming a perfect takeover target because they jump from one disaster to the next, and it is obviously not sustainable.”
He “prays for it every day”.
I think every day [Lonmin is] closer to becoming a perfect takeover target because they jump from one disaster to the next, and it is obviously not sustainable