I know this is a bit of a sensitive subject, folks, so my hard helmet has been tightly secured—albeit at a jaunty angle—and my rock hammer is poised.
I’m here to talk about why mining is ultimately a good thing.

In the last couple of years mining has rarely been out of the news. Most notably among the column inches have been two very human stories; one of which would end in celebration, and the other, tragedy. Both, however, commanded a captivated global audience, which gradually became gripped, as multimedia platforms reported on what seemed like a very old fashioned nightmare—miners trapped underground.

The Chilean band of brothers remained entombed in the San José mine for 69 days and, of course, emerged to great fanfare, acclaim and, for one, a wife and mistress. Countless documentaries have followed and a film deal is imminent. Recently, thousands of miles away, in Wales, there would be no fairy tale ending for the four miners of the Swansea Valley Mine. All of the men were found dead after the pit became flooded.

Although the consequences of these incidents were vastly different, there was a sub plot in the narrative of both that drew universal admiration—the courage, camaraderie and character of mining communities. Their quiet—and, at times, very loud—dignity, spoke volumes about, not just mining itself, but the social structure that is as much a by-product of the occupation as slate or iron or copper or gold.

Rock and role

In the last four decades a cornucopia of debates about mining, mines and miners have raged, often explosively. Moral, ethical and environmental disputes hover over this proud industry like an opaque cloud of coal dust. More often than not the voices shouting the loudest emanate from people who have never seen a mine, let alone been down one.

Opponents are often a faceless majority within the mining debate, and will jump in to the melting pot (smelting pot?) without any real appreciation of the sociological complexity of the industry. The sceptics are holed up, not underground with a pick axe, but in a basement, with a computer. Their Avatars stand up in defence of the so-called ‘victims’, preaching about the rights of a worker for whom they claim kinship, but with whom they have not even spoken. The truth is that a great many miners count the perceived risk to their health as one of the reasons they do the job; an adrenal kick which provides excitement rather than fear.

While I appreciate that there are some miners whose human rights and working conditions need urgently addressing, there are many, many more who love their job and whose idea of hell is actually much closer to the surface of the earth, sitting at a desk. On which point, it would be worth noting that there are many more disillusioned, disenfranchised and depressed people in the magnolia-coated ‘safety’ of offices than there ever have been in the mines. Indeed, it is the pristine population looking lifelessly at their screens for eight hours who feel most disconnected with reality these days.

Look again at the shell-shocked, ashen-faced bankers who trooped disconsolately from Lehman Brothers offices and compare them with the faces of those miners from Chile or, for that matter, the photos of smiling miners that don the walls of countless museums.

There are also other aspects of mining to consider, like the social cohesion which is at the heart of this unique occupation. Lifelong friendships are forged, families bond, a support system emerges and, above all, men and women are afforded a certain amount of job security and a wage packet.

It’s easy to talk about the dangers of mining, but what job isn’t without its inherent risks? As humans we thrive on the danger of existence. To eliminate risk is to eliminate life itself.

Working environment

The most volatile topic when it comes to mining is not directly connected with the perceived plight of the labourers, but the actual impact it has on the planet.

Exhausting natural resources, polluting mother earth and causing untold damage to the landscape are all accusations levelled by mining sceptics.

In the welter of finger pointing, perspective—particularly with something as big and robust as the World—is all but lost. Lest we forget; this mysterious place we call home is massive, gargantuan, impossibly huge. Through the haze of these superlatives, the point I’m trying to make is that our resources, while they are exhaustible, are still in huge supply. Even if they were to slowly disappear, shouldn’t we show faith in mankind to overcome the quandary; especially one this distant? Homo sapiens have always had a penchant for creative solutions (and long before management jargon had rendered the term ‘creative solutions’ meaningless).

While we’re on the subject of creation, where on earth do the people who crucify mining think computers, televisions, houses, wedding rings and the ground beneath their feet come from? Hemp? Give me a break. Without many of their material goods—many of which will contain a copper wire or two—they wouldn’t even be able to canvass their opinions in the first place.

The truth is that there will be alternatives. Man will eventually make PCs out of egg shells. Who knows, perhaps a Steve Jobs clone will start fashioning Apple products out of, er, apples. In 400 years’ time someone will probably coin the phrase, ‘which came first, the golden delicious, or the iphone’.

My great conviction is that man has the ability to adapt. Man is remarkable. Man is formidable. Man won’t let something like a lack of coal or oil get in the way of him having a good time.

We live in a society where, increasingly, instincts lean toward panic and hysteria rather than judgement and knowledge.

Rest in pieces

England—once the jewel in the mining crown—still bears the wounds of a collapsed industry. Former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher embarked on a ruthless crusade against mines and factories, severing a vital artery that has never healed.

Thatcher’s capitalist vision was seen as the antithesis of a largely socialist mining workforce, whose pride in their jobs was a greater currency than right wing greed. The destructive tendencies of the Conservative government toward the mines exploded into the violent riots of 1984-85, during which miners—backed by union leader Arthur Scargill—fought running battles with the police. It was a gallant and very public display of unity that would ultimately fail.  

The mines were closed and the men drifted home for the last time. Machinery ground to a halt and was left to decay, like ghostly epitaphs of a bygone age. Once the television cameras had departed, the abandoned workers were left without jobs and, in the case of many, barren of hope. One of the very foundations upon which Britain was built had been—quite literally—undermined.

Without work many of the ex-miners took to languishing on sofas (if they were lucky enough to have kept theirs) or the bottle. Their children—the next generation of miners—were forced to witness at first hand, this disturbing sequence of events, and it is this stage in the domino effect that echoes through the towns and cities of 21st Century Britain. This seed of apathy has germinated in the form of antisocial behaviour and young people being caught in the slow tornado of the benefits system.

Was it the doctrine of despondency, to which so many have been exposed in the eighties and nineties, which boiled over into the lawlessness and destruction that took place throughout Britain this summer?

Those who doubt the place of mining in the world should, perhaps, take heed, and be very careful what they wish for. 

If you have a view on the mining debate—whether it be political, social, environmental or otherwise—please write to johnp@tabj.co.za

We will either be high-fiving or trading blows as your responses are included in next month’s follow-up item.

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