2026 Annual Marikana Commemoration Lecture
Archbishop Thabo Makgoba
August 2026
Honour | Engage | Create
Our honoured families, members of the mining community, leaders of organised labour, esteemed guests and friends, colleagues, and fellow South Africans:
We gather once again to remember those colleagues and family members whose lives were lost in August 2012.
We gather to honour their memory, to stand with their families, and to recommit ourselves to the long and sacred work of healing, renewal and justice.
When I first spoke on such an occasion some years ago, I said that the Marikana Massacre had held up a mirror to South Africa. It forced us to look at ourselves: at the conditions in which people lived and worked; at the relationships between workers, companies, unions, communities, government and the police; at our failures of listening; at our failures of compassion; and at our failure, at times, to recognise the full humanity of one another.
We could not then, and we cannot now, look away.
The memory of Marikana is painful for those left behind, and also for the rest of the country, because it asks difficult questions. It asks:
• Have we done enough to ensure that such suffering never happens again?
• Have we done enough to restore dignity?
• Have we done enough to listen to the families, to workers and to communities?
• Have we done enough to build trust where trust was broken?
• Have we done enough to make justice visible not only in words, but in practical change?
I ask these questions because love of our country, love of our people and love of justice for all require honesty. Healing that is not grounded in truth cannot last. Renewal that is not grounded in dignity cannot take root. Hope that refuses to acknowledge pain is not hope at all; it is avoidance.
And so today we remember with humility.
We remember the lives lost. We remember the families who continue to carry grief. We remember the workers who carried the burden of difficult conditions and human aspiration. We remember a country confronted by its own wounds. We remember, too, the years of difficult work that have followed - work that has demanded patience, courage, listening and, above all, the willingness to remain in conversation even when conversation is hard.
Over the years, I have spoken often about hope. I have spoken of ripples of hope, of green shoots of progress, of shared value, of trust, of courageous conversations, of building bridges across the chasms that separate us. Those were not slogans. They were and remain moral disciplines.
Hope is a discipline. Trust is a discipline. Listening is a discipline. Reconciliation is a discipline. Responsible leadership is a discipline.
And discipline is a continuous, daily work. The work of making mining serve the common good is one of the most important disciplines of our national life.
I have also said before that the road towards healing and restoration is long and arduous. Today, we can say, believing it fully, that there has been progress. We have seen people who once stood far apart begin to sit together. We have seen families engaged with greater care. We have seen practical interventions seek to honour those who were lost and support those who remain. We have seen conversations among business, labour, faith communities and others that were once difficult to imagine. We have seen a growing recognition that mining cannot be measured only by what is extracted from the earth, but by what is restored to people, to communities and to the future.
For this progress, we give thanks.
But gratitude must never become complacency. Progress must never be used to silence pain. The fact that steps have been taken does not mean the journey is complete. The fact that bridges have been built does not mean everyone has crossed them – Indeed we saw earlier this year the murder of Chinette Callichan, a lawyer for Sibanye Stillwater, and the crossing of our built bridges must continue. The fact that hope has emerged does not mean hardship has disappeared, it does not mean that we can rest.
Many families still carry emotional and economic burdens. Many communities still know the daily reality of inequality. Workers across our country still ask whether their dignity is fully recognised. Young people still ask whether the future being promised to them will be real. And South Africa itself remains a wounded nation, searching for ways to become more just, more compassionate and more united.
That is why the messages of these past years remain valid today:
We must still hold up the mirror to assess ourselves, our achievements and our failures, clearly and honestly;
We must still choose courageous self-examination over denial;
We must still reach across divisions, peacefully - not only to those with whom we agree, but to those with whom we disagree;
We must still recognise that trust is fragile, that it is built through actions more than speeches, and that it is hard-won and easily broken;
We must see that mining, when guided by integrity, a strong moral compass, can uplift communities, preserve environments, restore dignity and create lasting opportunities; and
We must still understand that shared value is not a phrase for a brochure. Shared value means that the benefits of development must be felt by those whose lives are closest to its impacts. It means that workers must be respected, communities must be heard, families must be supported, and future generations must inherit more than scars.
So, as I prepare to step away from this role, my prayer is not that this work ends. My prayer is that it deepens.
May the next chapter of the Marikana Renewal journey be marked by even greater courage. May it be practical, honest and people-centred. May it continue to honour the families, engage the difficult truths, and create a future worthy of those whose memory we hold today.
Let us not allow Marikana to be defined only by tragedy. Let it also be remembered as the place where South Africans confronted pain and chose not to surrender to it. Let it be remembered as the place where grief called forth responsibility. Let it be remembered as the place where leaders learned again to listen. Let it be remembered as the place where a mining community began, slowly and imperfectly but sincerely, to build a new legacy.
Thank you for allowing me, over these years, to walk a small part of this journey with you. It has been a privilege, a burden, and a blessing.
May God bless the families. May God bless the mining communities of Marikana. May God bless all who continue the work of renewal. May the souls of the faithfully departed rest in peace and rise in glory.
God loves you, and so do I.
* * * * *
The 34 mineworkers killed by police on August 16, 2012:
• Sitelega Meric Gadlela
• Thembinkosi Gwelani
• Patrick Akhona Jijase
• Semi Jokanisi
• John Kutlwano Legingoane
• Jackson Lehupa
• Janeveke Raphael Liau
• Mafolisi Mabiya
• Julius Tokoti Mangcotywa
• Thembelakhe Mati
• Anele Mdizeni
• Bongani Mdze
• Makhosandile Mkhonjwa
• Telang Vitalis Mohai
• Khanare Elias Monesa
• Thabiso Mosebetsane
• Thobile Mpumza
• Babalo Mtshazi
• Michael Ngweyi
• Mphumzeni Ngxande
• Ntandazo Nokhamba
• Mgcineni "Mambush" Noki
• Bongani Nqongophele
• Mongezeleli Ntenetya
• Andries Motlapula Ntsenyeho
• Molefi Osiel Ntsoele
• Henry Mvuyisi Pato
• Modisaotsile Van Wyk Sagalala
• Fezile David Saphendu
• Pumzile Sokanyile
• Mzukisi Sompeta
• Thabiso Johannes Thelejane
• Mphangeli Thukuza
• Nkosiyabo Xalabile
• Cebisile Yawa
• Bonginkosi Yona
• Thobisile Zibambele
The 10 individuals killed in the days prior (August 12–14, 2012):
• Daluvuyo Bongo (striker)
• Hassan Fundi (Lonmin security)
• Sello Ronnie Lepaaku (SAPS warrant officer)
• Frans Mabelane (Lonmin security)
• Paulina Masuhlo
• Dumisani Mthinti
• Thapelo Eric Mabebe (Lonmin employee)
• Hendrick Tsietsi Monene (SAPS constable)
• Thabiso Mosebetsane
• Isaiah Twala
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