Peter Garrett first sang those words back in 1990 as front man of Midnight Oil, long before he grew up and got a real job as Australia’s current Environment Minister. He also penned such lyrics as:
Mining companies, pastoral companies,
Uranium companies,
Collected companies,
Got more right than people,
Got more say than people.
Of course, that goes all the way back to 1987, and he’s since approved at least one uranium mine in his official role. Today, however, these issues are more pertinent than ever. Around the world, mining companies are wielding immeasurable power, and doing untold damage to the indigenous communities whose land is all too often being exploited. Take, for example, the hills of Orissa, India, where the Dongria Kondh have been living and worshipping their god Niyam Raja for centuries. According to local belief, this god resides in Niyamgiri hill, which recently was sold to a mining company to be gutted of its bauxite deposits. The effects of a mine at the site, and the destruction of the hills that surround it, would subsequently mean the devastation of the forests, rivers and streams that flow out of them. Not to mention the Dongria Kondh themselves. Far closer to home is West Papua, forcefully acquired by Indonesia in the late 1960s and refused its right to vote for independence ever since. This is a mineral rich island, with gold and copper deposits which still earn the international companies which own them over one million dollars profit a year. Meanwhile, in regions of the country where companies such as BP are profiting hugely from natural gas reserves, villages are suffering from famine and a lack of basic health care. Any protest or dissent is quickly quelled by a brutal Indonesian military.
Australia is largely free of such large-scale exploitation, chiefly thanks to stringent Native Title legislation. However, in principal similar issues exist for traditional landowners, who possess or manage around twenty per cent of the continent. Much of the land is mineral rich, although Native Title deeds exclude ownership of anything underground. Mining companies are obliged to enter into binding agreements with individual land councils, who are capable of rejecting any prospective mining parties if they see fit. Still, the picture is far more complicated than this. Australia is on the brink of yet another mining boom, and in the midst of so much economic uncertainty on a global level the government is keen to make the most of it. Powerful rhetoric is flying about in both the federal and state parliaments, boldly signaling the benefits for all that will burst magnificently and bountifully from this burgeoning industry. Indigenous Australians are particularly in the spotlight, as they are key players in the scheme. They are constantly reminded of the poor unemployment rates, low living standards, and lack of access to industry that plague their communities. They are shown graphs with lines that move ever upward, promised generous royalty cheques (which they are entitled to under Native Title legislation), and occasionally even guaranteed jobs and training. Fears about damage to country are quickly allayed by promises that the mining companies will clean up when they’ve got what they wanted.
Experience has shown that the ‘cargo cult’ surrounding mining and its supposed benefits is vastly removed from the reality on the ground. A recent study entitled Power, culture, economy: Indigenous Australians and mining, released by the Centre for Aboriginal Economic Policy Research (CAEPR), analysed three large-scale mines on Aboriginal land in Queensland, the Northern Territory and Western Australia. They found that in those three cases little had changed in the areas of unemployment or economic growth. Furthermore, in the case of the Ranger uranium mine in the Northern Territory, there were serious health concerns relating to the unusually high cancer rate amongst Indigenous people in the area. At all three mines, there were significant environmental concerns relating to destruction of sacred and cultural heritage sites, damage to ecologically vital wetlands and the impact on subsistence fishing in several areas. Considering all this, the effectiveness and appropriateness of financial payouts is extremely questionable, especially when in the case of the Yandicoogina mine in Western Australia this money could not be accessed and used effectively by communities because it was locked up in trusts.
Still the federal and state governments plough ahead with their boom, desperate not to forfeit the financial gains to any environmental or social concerns. In Queensland the Wild Rivers Act seeks to preserve the pristine river systems of the Cape York Peninsula by regulating industry within a certain distance of those rivers. Mining, however, is excluded from the legislation, despite the immense toll of the water usage, road building and heavy vehicle traffic necessary to sustain the industry. In South Australia, even as an Indigenous Protected Area is being set up in the far north-west corner of the state, Rio Tinto and Metals X are embarking on a joint venture to explore a potentially vast nickel deposit, much like the one just across the border in Western Australia which is making the relocation of the entire community of Wingellina ever more likely. This is traditionally important land for the Pitjantjatjara people, connected to the papa (dog), patilpa (Port Lincoln Parrot) and ninu (bilby) dreaming stories, as well as being home to over two hundred Anangu people. While these people are promised jobs, training and money into the future, the remains of abandoned chrysoprase mines still scar the landscape, relics of bygone mining ventures. The people themselves express anxiety over the future, citing the potential mine in Wingellina as a source of depression in an area already wracked by suicide.
In the midst of all this, Aboriginal people are all too often left feeling powerless in the face of the mining companies and the governments. With such a strong focus on mining, and the consistent contention that it is a surefire way out of economic disadvantage, land councils and other decision-makers are left with difficult choices. The view has been expressed that while communities who are not involved in mining escape the injury to country, they are left with few alternative opportunities to develop industry and economic activity that could benefit them directly. It’s no wonder, as very little investment is made in sustainable industries, Indigenous initiatives or even taking the time to listen to what communities truly want.
Whether it be in the troubled areas of Orissa and West Papua, or in the more stable, if equally problematic, Indigenous communities of Australia, mining has effects that remain many years after the operations have packed up and left. To simply close down all mining ventures in this country would be economically disastrous, putting an end to almost forty per cent of the nation’s total exports. However, if Aboriginal ownership and stewardship of country is to be taken seriously, mining can no longer be portrayed as a do-or-die industry. There must be recognition by the governments that economic growth, even when it genuinely occurs, does not equal wellbeing and a better quality of life on the ground for Aboriginal people. Any industry that wishes to function on Indigenous land needs to ensure that its practices and outcomes are completely transparent and in the best interests of those who are most affected. Genuine investment needs to be made in sustainable industries, including culturally appropriate training and employment initiatives. Above all, we need to ensure that companies never have more rights than people, nor more say than them. Otherwise Native Title is a farce, and equality for Aboriginal Australians remains a long way off.
