South Africa’s white trade union, Solidarity, has risen to the top of the union pile. Kevin Davie went to their Centurion headquarters to find out what they are doing so right.
It’s all a bit mind-boggling, actually. At its core, Solidarity is a trade union, one that traces its history back to 1902 when it was the Mine Workers’ Union. The same union, deputy general secretary Dirk Hermann tells me as we survey the historic photos adorning the foyer walls in their Centurion headquarters, that led the 1922 white miners’ strike under the banner ”Workers unite for a white South Africa”.
”We are revolutionaries,” Hermann says proudly.
But times change and so has Solidarity. Because today, this union also runs a set of associated operations including financial services; artisan training; distance learning; a charity; a civil rights body; an economic research division; a job placement company; the largest labour law practice in the country; an internet radio station and a range of websites; a property division; and campaigns such as Come Home and Bly Net.
The Come Home campaign, says Hermann, has helped 4 000 South Africans return home, while 3 000 South Africans, many high-profile, have pledged to stay as a result of Bly Net.
Still, some things have not shifted as much as others — and there is no intention to do so.
”We are not a white organisation but we are predominantly white and Afrikaans,” he says, adding that someone has to also look after the needs of the 400 000 poor whites in the country. ”No one caters for them. We will do that.”
In fact, black membership is just 18%, made up roughly in equal proportions of Africans and non-Africans. But non-members can use Solidarity’s services, including buying its financial products and joining its training programmes. In the case of its distance training facility, in which the group holds a share, 90% of the 4 000 students trained each year are black.
One of its programmes provides a school suitcase full of goodies to first-time school kids to ensure that they have the basics to begin their schooling, with 50% of the beneficiaries being previously disadvantaged.
Revenue raised from membership fees goes into Solidarity’s investment holding company. Many unions do this, in some cases putting the funds into the JSE or investing directly in high-growth companies. In Solidarity’s case, though, the investment goes into building its training capacity. Last year alone it poured R30-million in machinery for its training college.
Solidarity trains artisans in electrical, mechanical, welding and motor skills. Hermann says that it trains about one-third of all the electrical artisans in the country, more than any other entity.
Solidarity’s business model, so to speak, looks for a different return on investment than just about every other business entity in the country: it invests exclusively in the growth of its community.
Non-union members can also become members of Solidarity’s civil rights body, AfriForum. Here, about 8 000 members contribute between R30 and R40 a month to be fight wider constitutional issues that affect all South Africans.
The union has 125 000 members, a fraction of Cosatu’s 1,8-million membership body with 21 affiliated unions. Still, Hermann says Solidarity has very good working relationships with the ANC, including Jacob Zuma, Kgalema Motlanthe and Gwede Mantashe. And it has a number of formal working arrangements with Cosatu and its affiliated unions.
Not surprisingly, Solidarity does not benefit from any BEE funding. Nor does it have any external donors. It is entirely self-funding, one of its principles being that it aims to turn over each rand as many times as it can within the organisation.
It is unapologetic for the racial composition of its staff and membership. Hermann says that it takes its lead from the Constitution, which stresses unity through diversity. Hermann’s key issue with current policy is that it wants all organisations to be representative of the broader demographics of the country.
”If we follow the logic of representivity, we deprive South Africa of a diverse character,” he says.
He maintains that while the Constitution makes no reference to representativity or race, specific laws such as those promoting employment equity do.
”Our model serves real affirmative action. This is input-based affirmative action through training and development.”
Kevin Davie is the Mail & Guardian’s business editor