Formalizing Artisanal Mining ‘Spaces’ in Rural Sub-Saharan Africa: The Case of Niger

Gavin Hilson,A* Halima GoumandakoyeA and Penda DialloB

AFaculty of Business, Economics and Law, University of Surrey, GuildfordGU2 7XH, United Kingdom

B College of Engineering, Mathematics and Physical Sciences, Camborne School of Mines, University of Exeter, Penryn, Cornwall, TR10 9FE, United Kingdom

* Corresponding author: Email: g.m.hilson@surrey.ac.uk

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Abstract

This paper contributes to the debate on the dynamics and impact of informal artisanal and small-scale mining (ASM) – low-tech, labour-intensive mineral processing and extraction – in sub-Saharan Africa, focusing on the case of Niger. The analysis draws on findings from interviews carried out with government officials in Niger's capital, Niamey, and artisanal miners in two of the country’s major artisanal gold-producing localities, Komabangou and M’Banga. Since it has gone virtually unexamined in the literature, Niger provides fresh perspectives on ASM’s informality in sub-Saharan Africa, a discussion which is rapidly gathering momentum in the region’s donor and development dialogues. Most of the moves taken to date to formalize and support ASM in the country have focused on the technical and financial aspects of the sector’s activities: emphasis has been placed on controlling the activity ad hoc, rather than proactively engaging and supporting operators.

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1. Introduction

This paper contributes to debates on the drivers and impacts of informal artisanal and small-scale mining (ASM) – low-tech, labour-intensive mineral processing and extraction – in sub-Saharan Africa, focusing on the case of Niger. Since the early-1990s, there has been significant discussion in policymaking and donor circles about the need to formalize ASM in the region This has been triggered by growing recognition of the sector’s economic importance, namely its ‘poverty-driven’ nature; how in many rural localities, it is the most important income-earning activity; and its inseparable linkages with subsistence agriculture (ILO, 1999; Maconachie and Binns, 2007; Ferring et al., 2016; Hilson, 2016). The evidence presented is convincing and illustrative, sufficient in both quantity and quality to warrant a critical ‘re-think’ of the role ASM can play, developmentally, in sub-Saharan Africa.

For ASM to become a centrepiece of the region’s economic development strategy, however, the sector must be formalized. Doing so enables governments to monitor and regulate activities more effectively, and equips individual ASM operators with the titles and registration required to secure the financial and technical support they desperately covet to expand their operations. But pushing this agenda forward first requires understanding why most of the sector’s activities are found in unregulated informal ‘spaces’. Since it has gone virtually unexamined in the literature, Niger offers a fresh perspective on ASM’s informality in sub-Saharan Africa.

The remainder of the paper is organized as follows. Section 2 assembles a framework for contextualizing the dynamics and drivers of informal ASM in sub-Saharan Africa. Relying heavily on this framework for guidance, Section 3 profiles the Niger case, drawing on findings from interviews carried out with government officials and selected artisanal miners in the country. Section 4 offers concluding remarks, reflecting on the challenges of formalizing ASM in Niger.

2. Informality in ASM: The Case of Sub-Saharan Africa

The subject of ASM formalization has sparked considerable debate in recent years. Most scholars who have examined the issue draw upon analysis that has 'crystallized into four dominant schools of thought regarding its nature and composition’ (Chen, 2012, p. 4): the 1) legalists, 2) dualists, 3) structuralists and voluntarists. But as these ‘four dominant schools of thought’ have evolved without taking stock of the dynamics of an economic activity as complex, unique and diverse as ASM, the ideas at their cores should not relied upon as wholesale explanations for the sector’s informality; they must rather be adapted and possibly contextualized further.

Whilst Chen (2012) correctly points out that ‘Different observers have different notions of what formalization of the economy means’ (p. 15), when the policy dimension is considered, it becomes much clearer how donors and government officials believe it applies; the ASM sector is no exception. For the groups of actors who control the ASM policymaking space, formalization of the sector is seen as ‘a process that seeks to integrate [ASM] into the formal economy’ (UNEP, 2012, p. 2). The motivation for doing so has long been recognized, outlined comprehensively over two decades ago by Davidson (1993), who explained that if ‘rationalized and formalized’, ASM can be ‘made more efficient, economic, safe and environmentally benign’, in other words, ‘constructively transformed, and its character changed to increase its benefit potential and eliminate or at least minimize its disadvantages’ (p. 317). Officials at the UN have since provided a clearer explanation of what this formalization ‘process’ entails in the context of ASM:

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The process of formalization includes the development or adaptation of mining (and other) laws or policies to address the challenges of ASGM [artisanal and small-scale gold mining]. A well-designed formalization process generates the enabling conditions for accountability within the sector so that it can ultimately be integrated into the formal economy. Formalization can only be successfully achieved if programmes and public policy deal with the different dimensions of ASGM activities simultaneously and in an integrated way. Legalization is just one dimension of the process of formalization. [UNEP, 2012, p. 2]

In sub-Saharan Africa, important groundwork was laid on this front three decades ago. By the mid-1990s, 36 countries in the region had committed to formalizing ASM, implementing policy frameworks and legislation, and establishing administrative and technical institutions to facilitate this or in the process of doing so (Fisher et al., 2009). It is the rigidity of these policy frameworks, however, which has ‘created’ the unregulated, informal ‘spaces’ where most ASM activities are found today (after Hilson and Maconachie, 2017). When examined through a legalist ‘lens’, this becomes much clearer.

To date, a significant amount of analysis has been put forward which draws attention to how inappropriate regulations and permitting systems are not in tune with the realities facing the ‘barefoot prospector’, and therefore, stifle, rather than encourage, the legalization of ASM. Officials at the International Labour Organization (1999) were among the first to draw attention to this:

Small-scale mining is bedevilled with too many regulations that are mostly designed to constrain it and too few inspectors to ensure that they do…If small-scale mining is to be encouraged to operate legally, legislation must be (at least) even-handed in allowing small-scale miners access to suitable land for prospecting and mining activities. [np]

It was Traore (1994), however, who first made similar observations about sub-Saharan Africa, reporting that ‘what with red tape, the short duration of the concessions and overtaxation (particularly when it comes to precious minerals which are rightly or wrongly considered a highly lucrative business), small-scale mining ventures are hampered and this finally affects business’ (p. 208). Several in-depth cases have since emerged which reinforce these claims, including studies on Ghana (Hilson et al., 2014), Liberia (Van Bockstael, 2014) and Zimbabwe (Spiegel, 2015).

This body of analysis resonates powerfully with several core arguments put forward by the legalist school, headed by the Peruvian economist Hernando De Soto (De Soto, 2000, 2002). Legalists, explains Chen (2012), ‘focus on informal enterprises and the formal regulatory environment to the relative neglect of informal wage workers and the formal economy per se’, and acknowledge that formal firms ‘collude with government to set the bureaucratic “rules of the game”’ (p. 5). For De Soto, legitimizing the deeds and licenses or ‘dead capital’ of the ‘extralegals’ that are only recognized in informal ‘spaces’ would provide these ‘plucky entrepreneurs’ with the collateral needed to ‘jumpstart’ their activities and improve their quality of life.

Siegel and Veiga (2009) make a convincing case for this approach to be followed when formalizing ASM, drawing on experiences from the 1800s American West, where there were separate property systems in place, each with its own system of governance. These dynamics would inform the design of the 1872 Mining Act, which adapted, and in the process, legitimized, existing ‘extralegal’ social contracts, claims and laws created by these informal property rights systems. For similar change to take place in the ASM

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sector today, however, there must be political will do so at all levels of government, which would require considerable effort, given the current orientation of existing mining policies.

Legalists also assume that the energy of the ‘plucky entrepreneur’ would carry over to a more formalized setup. But it is potentially problematic to assume this in the case of ASM in sub-Saharan Africa. Consider, for example, the case of Mali’s ASM communities, which officials at the NGO Human Rights Watch (Human Rights Watch, 2011) portray in an extremely negative light. In Mali, they explain, although ‘most artisanal miners lie outside these [designated mining] corridors’, the ‘government usually tolerates these activities, in part because mayors and other local authorities, as well as traditional authorities, sometimes benefit financially from the presence of artisanal mines’ (p. 18). These individuals, in effect, run the ASM activities found in the country’s informal ‘spaces’ and are often portrayed as exploitative: the traditional authorities, who have customary ownership over land and therefore extract payment in gold; the tomboloma, who manages the operation; and the mayor, who occasionally charges a fee for sinking and subsequently working a shaft. Would these actors, who profit handsomely from the existing arrangement and therefore have a vested interest in nurturing ‘home grown’ entrepreneurship under the current circumstances, be free to continue brokering deals with local operators in a more formalized system which favours a more connected businessperson and would likely involve greater regulation and input from the central government over decision-making?

The same applies to middlemen, who play an instrumental role in supporting entrepreneurship in informal ASM ‘spaces’ in rural sub-Saharan Africa. Over the years, accounts have surfaced from all corners of the sub-Saharan Africa which draw attention to how the region’s buyers-turned-sponsors, in the absence of competition, find themselves able to freely manoeuvre and negotiate favourable terms for purchasing minerals, at times, exploiting operators. Not surprisingly, there have also been reports of miners not trusting buyers (e.g. Nest 2011; Vlassenroot and Van Bockstael, 2012). But this begs the question: why do they continue to forge these relations if buyers are, indeed, parasitic? Arguments broaching the issue of bondage, which connotes slavery and exploitation, only partly explain why. A more likely explanation is that miners also benefit enormously from these arrangements, and that the relationship is more symbiotic than parasitic under the circumstances. Analysis undertaken by Childs (2014), which reflects on findings from research conducted in Tanzania, sheds some light on this possibility. Here, the business of the makota (informal buyers), who government officials view as illegitimate and accuse of manipulating weighing scales, have, for the most part, been unaffected by the recent arrival of a registered bank committed to providing a ‘fair’ market price to miners for their gold. As the author explains, many ASM operators continue to see the makota ‘as an essential part of both credit provision and as providers of a rudimentary form of social security, even describing them in one case as “like family”’ (p. 133). Such flexible arrangements would certainly disappear in more formalized setups.

But as the next section of the paper illustrates, many of the ideas at the heart of the legalist school, when adapted and further nuanced, go a long way toward contextualizing the dynamics of informal ASM ‘spaces’ in rural Niger.

3. Informal Small-Scale Mining in Niger: A Critical Analysis

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This section of the paper reflects critically on findings from ongoing research in Niger, a country which, despite having an abundance of gold deposits, has gone virtually unexamined in the ASM literature. This is surprising given how over 450,000 people could be employed directly in the sector countrywide. 1 Could this overlooked case yield fresh insights on the challenges of formalizing ASM in sub-Saharan Africa? Analysis from Section 2 is used to frame the case study.

The discussion that follows draws on research undertaken in Niger over a period of seven months in 2015 and an additional period of research carried out between December 2017 and January 2018. The research solicited views from a range of stakeholders on Niger’s informal ASM economy, with the aim of broadening understanding of the organization of its operations and why formalization has proved so challenging. A stakeholder map (Figure 1) was initially assembled, drawing on information available about the sector’s organizational structures and regulatory apparatus. Using this map as guidance, research was conducted in two mining settlements, Komabangou and M’Banga, in the Tillabéri Department of Southwest Niger. First, Komabangou was visited, where research was facilitated by a close contact of the local chief (Chef de Canton), who was also operating as a financier in the village at the time. A meeting was held with the Chef de Canton, which, given their influential role in ASM across Niger, was deemed necessary to ensure that the research could be carried out unimpeded.

[Insert Figure 1 here]

In Komabangou, the more populous of the two sites, the dynamics of informal ASM were analyzed further. The village has long been the location of the country’s most active ASM sites, attracting, in the 1980s and 1990s, an estimated 40,000 diggers from all corners of West Africa, following the discovery of auriferous quartz veins rich in gold. In Komabangou, during the first phase of the research, in-depth interviews were carried out with 12 artisanal miners (the main ‘heads’ of the groups), financiers and traders onsite. In addition, interviews were conducted with the site’s four main financiers and its primary gold trader, as well as a number of labourers, including eight pit workers and two cyanide batch workers. Data from these interviews were used to construct a more accurate picture of the situation on the ground. Follow-up questionnaires were administered to these individuals which captured complementary information, including data on their ages and nationality, their reasons for mining, and their relationship with the authorities on the ground. A follow-up visit was made to the site as part of the second phase of the research, during which additional observations were made.

In M’Banga, which is more of a ‘satellite’ artisanal mining community, to facilitate research onsite during the initial phase of the research, arrangements were made with a member of the artisanal miners’ syndicate prior to arrival. The individual was also operating at the time as a financier. A group interview was organized with two other miner syndicate members, which yielded insightful data on land rights and community relations. Following the interview, a guided visit was made to the cyanide treatment facilities and the mine pits which supply them. Here, semi-structured interviews were conducted with the locality’s five major miners and cyanide batch workers. At both sites, interviewees were asked to reflect on their experiences in the country’s informal gold mining communities, to describe the nature of their work, and to share their views on the country’s administration and mine permitting processes. 1 ‘Niger: ASM Country Profile’, https://knowledge.uneca.org/asm/Niger (Accessed 13 February 2018).

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Additional interviews were held with a host of industry and government officials, mostly in the country capital of Niamey, at the conclusion of the first phase and throughout the second phase. These included former employees from the Société des Mines du Liptako (SML),2 the artisanal miners’ syndicate; the Direction des Exploitations Minières à Petite Echelle et des Carrières (DEMPEC);3 the Réseau des Organisations pour la Transparence et l’Analyse Budgetaire (ROTAB);4 Projet d'Appui à la Competitivité et à la Croissance (PRACC);5 and the Prime Minister’s Cabinet and Analysis Cell for Development. These consultations yielded important insights on the approach taken to regulate ASM in Niger, as well as information about a third site, Djado, the location of the country’s most recent gold rush.6

3.1 Geographical Setting and Policy Context

Before sharing details about the dynamics of ASM in Niger, it is instructive to provide information about the local context. Niger is a landlocked country in West Africa, comprised of 80 percent desert and 20 percent savannah. Most of its population engages in livestock production and/or agriculture. The country is one of the poorest in the world, ranking 186 out of 187 on the 2016 Human Development Index, the culmination of an excessively high birth rate, limited economic opportunities, and ongoing insecurity and violence at its borders (UNDP, 2016; Asfaw et al., 2018).

A sizable amount of scholarly work (e.g. Batterbury, 2001; Zezza et al., 2016; Asfaw et al., 2018) has been produced to date which provides a glimpse of the livelihood dynamics in rural Niger. More recent analysis, however, focuses heavily on how the country’s pastoralists and agricultural groups are coping with desertification and food shortages. Prior to the establishment of colonial territories, the country’s pastoralists and farm groups avoided famine, particularly during periods of extreme drought, by migrating. The former moved to areas as far south as Kano (Nigeria) whilst the latter sought refuge in forested zones, also in the south of the country. After the colonial period, when land began to be valued based on a market-based system of production and a centrally-governed regime of private ownership emerged, the authorities started to regulate access to forests (declaring them ‘public lands’) and prohibited cultivation in the northern ‘pastoral zone’ (Snorek et al., 2014; Binam et al. 2017). This has stiffened competition for ‘shared’ resources throughout Niger, where only 15 percent of lands are arable and mostly confined to the south near the border with Nigeria; food and income shortages, brought about by climatic shocks, are now major concerns in rural areas (Snorek et al., 2017; Asfaw et al., 2018).

One economic activity which, if properly supported, could deliver a badly-needed injection of finance to, and transform what Manvell (2006) refers to ‘Sahelian Action Spaces’7 in, rural Niger, is ASM. Academic analysis of the extractive industries in the country is limited to uranium mining (e.g. Larsen and Mamosso, 2014; Goumandakoye, 2016), which is understandable: the country is currently the world’s

2 The Mining Society of Liptako.3 The Direction des Exploitations Minières à Petite Echelle et des Carrières. It awards the cards/concessions for ASM and is tasked with regulating its activities.4 Network of Organizations for Transparency and Budgetary Analysis.5 Competitiveness and Growth Support Project.6 The analysis draws upon findings from these interviews. All of the interviewees are anonymized. The dates and times of interviews are also omitted, a request made by number of interviewees because it was believed that this information could expose identities. 7 Manvell (2006) adapts Painter et al.’s (1994) definition of the ‘action space’, namely, ‘the geographical and temporal distribution of the ensemble of opportunities and constraints, both local and distant, that individuals exploit and address as they endeavour to survive and improve their lives’ (p. 452).

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fourth-largest producer of the metal (approximately seven percent of global production), and is over-dependent, economically, on the revenue generated from its extraction. The country supplies mostly French markets.

There has, however, been a push in Niger in recent years to expand the country’s extractive industries portfolio to include formalized ASM. Important groundwork was initially laid in this area under le Programme de Renforcement et de Diversification du Secteur Minier au Niger (PRDSM), 2008-2013, a 35 million euro project funded by the European Development Fund. For gold, emphasis was placed on educating miners about the health-related impacts of cyanide and mercury, both of which are used to separate the metal from ore. Pilot projects introduced miners in Komabangou to more advanced processing techniques, including three different grinding units and a gold cyanidation apparatus, as well as provided additional training on environmental issues. The objective, explained a government official in an interview, was ‘to bring [ASM] actors to work together under cooperatives and/or as groups that can be controlled through the services being offered to them [because] When miners can be grouped around interest points, it becomes easier to train them, sensitize them, collect taxes and also monitor their activities which all facilitate formalization efforts’.

But has PRDSM jumpstarted a – paraphrasing UN officials – viable formalization ‘process’ for ASM in Niger? The sections that follow weigh in on this issue, as well as examine the dynamics of the sector’s informality and its position in rural areas of the country, an essential first step in initiating this ‘process’.

3.2 Informal ASM in Rural Niger: A snapshot

Niger experienced its first major ‘gold rush’ in 1984. It occurred in Liptako, in the southwest of the country. But unlike most mineral ‘rushes’, which tend to be spearheaded by business-minded entrepreneurs looking to ‘get rich quick’ (Hilson, 2010), the scramble for gold in Liptako was led by impoverished masses, coinciding with a local drought. Countless families, lacking adequate arable land to grow crops and rear livestock, reportedly moved to the area in search of supplementary income. It seems, however, that based on observations made in Komabangou and M’Banga, the individuals who have since moved into Niger’s Southwestern ASM corridor were mostly lured by the prospect of earning additional income.

Moreover, and despite Batterbury’s (2001) claim that, in Southwestern Niger, there is a ‘productive bricolage’ or ‘mixing of income sources by rural households’ in which ‘farmers enter into non-agricultural activities with the hope of realizing cash income, and also integrate subsistence agriculture with the production of crops for sale or barter’ (p. 438), there was very little livelihood diversification observed in both Komabangou and M’Banga. Most of the miners consulted during the course of the research expressed very little interest in agriculture, including striking a balance between their mine work and farming, a pattern observed in countless other stretches of rural sub-Saharan Africa (see e.g. Maconachie and Binns, 2007; Hilson, 2016). The following excerpts from selected interviews with miners illustrate this very clearly:

I don’t do any farming. I am mining to fund my studies that’s what I am interested in right now, when the holiday is over I will return to school.

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This is all I do, I only work here and it’s full time [...] I am one of the firsts to mine here, I arrived at the first discovery in the 1980s and since then it’s the only work I have been doing…I just stop, I do not do any agriculture or cattle rearing I have no experience in that so I just wait for the rain to end…

During exchanges with miners in both Komabangou and M’Banga, it quickly became apparent that they – most of whom, at the time of interviewing, claimed to be below the age of 30 – do not view farming as a viable income-earning activity. They do, however, see mining as a valuable source of start-up capital for investment and other business ventures, a long list which does not include traditionally-practiced agro-pastoralist activities. Many, especially those who hail from Southwestern Niger, wish to remain in ASM for the long term and seem to have no intention of leaving their villages. But this is not unusual. The proven remunerative capacity of ASM, particularly in environments devoid of income-earning potential, such as many stretches of Southwestern Niger, has clearly conditioned individuals to ‘overrate’ the sector, and has ultimately influenced their opinion of its activities. It is more likely a case of those consulted being grateful for having a source of badly-needed income or, for who De Soto (2000, 2002) would consider the ‘plucky’ entrepreneur here, the opportunity to accumulate earnings for investment. Nevertheless, much like Tanzania, where, as Jønsson and Fold (2011) report, ‘the miners’ ultimate goal is to become successful miners or businessmen, not return to agriculture’ (p. 482), there was a sense among those interviewed in Komabangou and M’Banga that residents want to generate economic growth in their communities and bring badly-needed income to households. The broad consensus was that gold, not crops, makes this possible.

Despite operating outside of the law, Niger’s artisanal gold miners are a part of exceptionally complex organizational structures featuring dynamic labour hierarchies. This was observed in both Komabangou and M’Banga (Figure 2). De Soto (2002) drew attention to the complexities of such informality, along with the abundance of energy often found in the ‘extralegal’ economy, a detailed understanding of which he and fellow legalists argue quite persuasively should be taken into account when formalizing activities. In Niger, at the top of the ASM pyramid is the Chef de Canton, who, in the absence of regulation, has gained control of informal mining ‘spaces’, similar to the way in which traditional chiefs now influence artisanal and small-scale gold panning activity across Ghana (Hilson et al., 2014). According to UN officials, of the 69 known artisanal gold mining sites in Niger, 24 of which are using cyanide, only three can be considered as having some type of government control or supervision. 8 Recent visits to both M’Banga and Komabangou confirmed as much: that, despite evidence of illegal practices, including widespread use of cyanide and most pits exceeding the legal limit of 30 metres, there is no government presence onsite.

Similar to developments in Ghana (Hirons, 2014, 2015), in Niger, is the state’s neglect of rural affairs that has empowered the Chef de Canton. The country’s rural masses, frustrated over the government’s failure to deliver on promises made under the Rural Code to register transactions and provide legally-binding papers which validate ownership of their land, are increasingly turning to the local Chef de Canton, who retains administrative and judicial power, in an attempt to ‘legitimize’ their assets. The state’s inability to adequately meet citizens’ demands for land registration, in turn, has led to the Chef de Canton becoming a crucial link between communities and the state. Many Chefs de Canton now find themselves in a position to broker local economic transactions, including those concerning ASM.

[Insert Figure 2 here]

8 ‘Niger: ASM Country Profile’

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The vast majority (>85 percent) of individuals encountered at the sites visited occupy the bottom two tiers of the labour pyramid (BNIC/SCP, 2013). They tend to be the most marginalized and therefore stand to benefit significantly from any positive changes formalization would bring about. These individuals mainly work pits in groups numbering between five and six individuals. They typically work under the direction of a financier, who, as the holder of the informal ‘mining permit’, is tasked with supplying each worker with mining cards and basic necessities (food, medication, etc.). Similar to what De Soto (2002) described had taken place in Lima’s ‘extralegal’ economy, in both Komabangou and M’Banga, miners, financiers and other middlemen have organized themselves, forging relationships and assembling intricate networks through which informal sources of credit and ultimately, gold, flow.

3.3 The ‘Plucky’ Entrepreneur

Based on observations made and interviews conducted at both study sites, those engaged in ASM in Niger who fit the mould of ‘plucky entrepreneur’ fall into one of two categories. The first is, for the purposes of this discussion, assigned the label ‘local miner’. These are individuals judged to have an emotional connection with their area of work: most were born in nearby villages, are elderly and/or have families, and reinvest a large share of their earnings in the country (buying machinery from local merchants, building new houses, etc.). Visits to M’Banga proved particularly illuminating in this regard. Here, in the absence of state support, ‘local miners’ have financed, through the miners’ syndicate, infrastructure projects in the locality, including the school, health clinic and five boreholes. Reflecting on the general quality of life for resident families, one ‘local miner’ explained in an interview that whilst ‘the money I get from the mine is enough for my expenses, I am able to pay for food, clothes, medicine and any other expense that I need or want to make…[but] in all honesty this brought me wealth as I was able to feed and clothe myself without anyone’s help or difficulty’. At both sites visited, the ‘local miners’ interviewed expressed a sense of attachment to their surroundings, and appeared determined to contribute in some capacity to the local community. This sense of belonging and ‘collective identity’ has been observed in ASM communities elsewhere, most recently in Peru by Damonte (2016), who reported such behaviour among older miners, and in Bolivia by Salman et al. (2015), who brought to light how many of the country’s operators identify themselves with associations and cooperatives. What is lacking for ASM operators in Niger, however, is the political leverage and organization enjoyed by their Latin American counterparts, which has contributed enormously to their disenfranchisement. Nevertheless, some ‘local miners’ explained that they prefer their lives as miners, despite being educated and therefore potentially able to secure alternative employment in Niamey and further afield: all but one has earned at least a baccalaureat (or reached GCSE level), and one even possesses a university degree.

These ‘local miners’ are vastly outnumbered by those who fall into the second category, referred to here as ‘short-term miners’. These individuals, who are mostly migrants and have no intention of making Niger their homes, are the true ‘plucky entrepreneurs’ driving the system. They are mostly in search of ‘fast money’ and have little interest in reinvesting their earnings locally. All of the ‘short-term miners’ interviewed claimed to be working under a local financier, had no formal education, had used profits to acquire motorbikes and sent what remaining money they had back to their countries of origin. One government official reflected, in an interview, on the implications their actions have for local development, explaining that ‘Most of the mining activities have thus far benefited expatriates’.

These ‘expatriates’ originate from all corners of West Africa and even as far afield as Chad, although the most hail from neighbouring Burkina Faso. This is unsurprising, given the well-documented ASM

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exploits of the Burkinabe in their own country, and their lengthy experience extracting gold in semi-arid environments. Although not explored specifically here, past studies (e.g. Jaques et al., 2006; Werthmann, 2009) have shown, inter alia, that in Burkina, both men and women have honed an array of skills in ASM in recent decades, during which time the sector has progressively mechanized and new technologies and techniques, such as ‘cyanide gardens’, have emerged. The Burkinabe have also skilfully developed their ASM sector into a viable entity, to the point where many participants are deftly using it as a ‘platform for wealth creation’: earnings are being used to invest in their children’s education and to finance a range of business ventures, including hotels and restaurants. They have brought their skills and business acumen to Niger’s ASM localities, their growing presence responsible for sharp rises in gold production (Figures 3 and 4).

[Insert Figures 3 and 4 here]

Regardless of who is mining, however, all roads lead back to the Chefs de Canton, who, as indicated, control Niger’s informal ‘spaces’. This is not surprising, as again, the authorities, recognizing the limitations of their ability to regulate, have ‘permitted’ these influential local leaders to exercise control over rural localities. As De Sardan (2006) explains, this is largely a colonial legacy in Niger and Togo, the only two West African countries which openly rely on regional leaders/chiefs – who can remain in power for the duration of their lives unless revoked by villagers – for enforcement of laws. But significantly, these dynamics could inhibit efforts to formalize ASM moving forward, as experiences from the study sites suggest. In each case, the presiding Chef de Canton has awarded informal mining permits without consulting the authorities, presumably because they are keen on obtaining a share of gold for themselves. The mining zone is a clearly defined area identified using the mining cadastre, which is updated and used when individuals make requests. When a request is made, the coordinates of the plot in question are checked using a GPS to avoid overlaps; this is done electronically and updated. But complications have arisen in both localities with free permit zones (permis libres), specifically, in cases where the Chef de Canton and DEMPEC have both awarded permits to work plots, which has created a legal dualism and spawned multiple tenure systems that has caused, and could continue to lead to, confusion. As Niger’s informal mining ‘spaces’ are largely under the control of its Chefs de Canton, they would need to be coerced in order for any formalization exercise to have traction.

3.4 ‘Creating’ and Perpetuating Informality

The mine permitting system in Niger is by no means unique; it mirrors those in place in most African countries. As outlined in the Mining Code, which, since its implementation in 1993, has undergone several revisions, there are four main permit types, one of which is ‘Artisanal Mining’, valid for two years and renewable indefinitely, provided that the licensee has maintained his/her plot satisfactorily. It is the policy treatment of this permit and the activities it covers which will be examined here, specifically, procedures and processes surrounding how it is issued. According to the most recent iteration of the Mining Code (Art. 43), an Artisanal Mining Permit is awarded ‘to extract and concentrate the ore to recover the substance useful by artisanal methods and processes’ and is granted by the Minister of Mines. As indicated in Art. 50, holders of this permit are ‘required to sell all of the mineral substances extracted’ to ‘legal persons authorized by the Minister of Mines’. Moreover, licensees must pay a tax of 3 percent of product value, and individuals and legal entities licensed to sell mined products must pay an additional 2.5 percent of the product value (Art. 86).

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It seems, however, that Niger is travelling down a similar path to that of Ghana and Liberia, electing to implement a regulatory and policy framework for ASM that is not particularly user-friendly. The situation in Djado in particular magnifies its inadequacies and offers valuable insight on the bureaucracy which aspiring Artisanal Mining Permit holders in Niger face. The site is quite large, and therefore challenging to police. Individual miners, therefore, are able to avoid the few government personnel based in the area, which bodes well for artisanal miners, most of whom do no not have a permit. Previously, explained a government agent in an interview, miners were required to travel 2000 km to Niamey to register with the authorities, a treacherous journey which, at the time the first phase of the research was carried out, included travel through the desert. These dynamics are manifestations of a highly-centralized policymaking structure, which demands that all formalization and land title requests, regardless of context, be made at the DEMPEC headquarters in Niamey. Even those who travel to Niamey to register are not guaranteed a timely assessment of their application, as suggested by a miner in the following passage:

At the ministry level that’s where we find the biggest problems. We put down requests for permits since 2012, we even paid and till now we have no response from the ministry. [Interview, artisanal miner, M’Banga]

In addition to the burdensome bureaucracy, there are the costs associated with securing a permit. Though nowhere near as high as in the likes of Ghana, Liberia or Tanzania, the fees and perhaps more significantly, series of payments, which must be made to obtain an Artisanal Mining Permit in Niger can be burdensome and discouraging for the prospective license holder. The permit or the ‘card’ itself is not necessarily a significant financial outlay at 2000 CFA (£2.14) but because it must be delivered by DEMPEC officials only after it is approved by the Minister of Mines in Niamey, progression from ‘permit in demand’ to ‘permit given’ status can take several months, often requiring additional payments to be made in order to expedite decisions. The numerous additional taxes referred to above are detailed in Figure 5, each of which is associated with its own set of paperwork.

[Insert Figure 5]

The laissez-faire approach taken by the government to regulate the country’s ASM communities has complicated matters even further. The central government ‘controls’ ASM through an assembled équipe mixtes de sécurité, which conducts periodic administrative surveillance missions. It is comprised of 10 security agents, who support the team; one team leader (chef d’équipe), who must be a certified mining engineer; one deputy leader (chef adjoint), who must also be a certified mining engineer; one health specialist (agent de santé); one driver; and two additional workers. As there must be an équipe mixtes de sécurité onsite at all times, personnel are rotated typically every two months. At the time the initial phase of the research was undertaken, an équipe mixtes de sécurité had just been assembled and dispatched to Djado. The équipe mixtes de sécurité, however, is only seen at the time of what is referred to as the ‘mining campaign’, which runs only during the dry season, from 15 October to 15 May. Moreover, until the recent intervention at Djado, only Komabangou had been targeted by an équipe mixtes de sécurité. But many miners consulted at the field sites visited argued during interviews that the équipe mixtes de sécurité is more concerned with collecting money, and provides very little education, training and technical support to operators.

Dualists would argue that this behaviour, along with many of the phenomena described during interviews with miners, is an inevitable outcome of a type of policy treatment which encourages informality. They maintain that the informal sector functions fairly autonomously and has few, if any,

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linkages to the formal economy (Chen, 2012). But these interpretations alone are insufficient in explaining why unregulated informal ASM ‘spaces’ persist across sub-Saharan Africa, largely for two reasons. The first is that the sector’s unlicensed operators constantly interact with various players in the formal economy, including traders and mining authorities on the ground. In the case of Niger, the formal gold trade relies on the supplies of informal mine operators, which could in part explain the authorities’ laissez-faire approach to regulation. The second reason is that, in sub-Saharan Africa, those confined to informal ASM ‘spaces’ are not marginalized in the way in which dualists would tend to argue. In Niger, although ASM is mostly informal, it is fairly autonomous. Within the country’s informal ASM ‘spaces’, in addition to a Chef de Canton, there are a number of actors who influence unlicensed operators’ day-to-day activities, although in the absence of government regulation and control, corruption can be widespread. Many miners – both licensed and unlicensed – admitted during interviews to making unofficial payments to local officials, mostly to use explosives and mercury (to amalgamate gold), and for permission to mine during the rainy season. These engagements reinforce the point raised by legalists: that, in the autonomous informal ‘spaces’ which the dualists maintain emerge in developing world settings, ‘Citizens have resigned themselves to the fact that they must corrupt public officials if they want their needs satisfied’ (De Soto, 2002, p. 5-6). One government official succinctly summed up the situation in Niger’s ASM communities as follows: ‘The Republican Guard for example are supposed to control [ASM activities], however they do not oversee the activity effectively since they sometimes accept bribes from miners’.

In addition to corruption, in Niger’s informal ASM ‘spaces’, arrangements are, much like the transactions described in countries such as Ghana (Hilson, 2010) and Tanzania (Childs, 2014), not necessarily in the best interests of the mine operator. One miner provided a glimpse of what countless people operating in Niger now face:

If we do not respect the agreements with him [the financier] we are not allowed to work at the mine anymore. We have to buy everything from him, even if we need small things like matches […] his prices are sometimes higher than in the market and if we are caught buying elsewhere we are taken out of work too and don’t get paid for the work we did.

Imposed arrangements between these informal financiers (middlemen) and customary landowners are common. Whilst a problem throughout Niger, the situation appears particularly serious in M’Banga:

The biggest issue is with the landowners, currently one in particular […] they all ask for many additional payments. The miners already have to pay 20,000CFA for the pit, 2,000CFA for the card, give 95CFA/ grams sold as tax. For example, if a pit produces 10 bags they (land owners) will ask for 2 bags (bag itself or its value in cash). [Interview, artisanal miner, M’Banga]

In M’Banga, property rights and migration have been responsible for a number of widely-publicized conflicts between miners (both ‘local miners’ and ‘short-term miners’), culminating in at least 15 trials over land and the distribution of gold revenues to date (BNIC/SCP, 2013). The case further reinforces a point alluded to earlier concerning the overlap between government regulations enforced by the central administration in Niamey and various decentralized processes on the one hand, and the traditional rights which govern the rural territories that the authorities have permitted the Chefs de Canton to oversee on the other hand.

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To summarize, when viewed through a legalist lens, the nuances of the informality found in Niger’s ASM sector become clearer. It raises the question: Is formalization of ASM, a critical first step toward putting operators in a position to access financial and technological support, to mobilize collateral, and to potentially serve some of the parasitic relationships they have been forced to forge, a realistic option at this point in Niger? The next, and concluding, section of the paper debates this.

4 Discussion and conclusion: Can Niger’s informal ASM ‘spaces’ be legitimized?

What groundwork must be laid in order to formalize Niger’s ASM operations? An obvious first step would be, in line with De Soto (2000, 2002), to legitimize the permits and deeds that are only recognized in informal ‘spaces’. But for this to happen, it would require substantial political will which, in the case of Niger, may be unrealistic, at least in the short term. During interviews with Niger’s government officials, it quickly became apparent that a formalized ASM sector is not a national priority. Consistent with observations made elsewhere in sub-Saharan Africa, most of the moves taken to date to formalize and support ASM in the country have focused on the technical and financial aspects of the sector’s activities: emphasis has been placed on controlling the activity ad hoc, rather than proactively engaging and supporting operators.

A major reason why these informal ‘spaces’ persist is the administration’s preoccupation with large-scale uranium mining and, more recently, oil production. Criticism has mounted in recent years over the government’s insistence on continuing to showcase large-scale, export-led resource extraction as the centrepiece of the country’s growth and development strategy. For more than two decades, Niger has been mired in a state of economic paralysis, despite being a world leader in the production of uranium. The debate on uranium mining and economic development in Niger, spearheaded by Oxfam (Oxfam, 2013), has raised awareness of the marked difference between the quantity of tax the state is receiving from foreign operators on the one hand, and the value of the uranium they are exporting on the other hand. What tends to be overlooked in this discussion, however, is that the monies earned by the Government of Niger in taxes and royalties from uranium mining are nevertheless substantial, sums which, if invested prudently, could certainly effect meaningful change on the ground: revenue awarded to the state in 2010 alone, for example, tallied 459 million euros.

In its latest Poverty Reduction Strategy Paper (PRSP), Economic and Social Development Plan (PDES) 2012-2015 (IMF, 2013), the Government of Niger does offer clues on how it intends to use its mining sector as a catalyst for economic growth. But for a rent-seeking government content with enriching itself with revenues from uranium mining, it is unclear why, given the effort it must expend and the unpredictable financial gains, it would commit to the ‘development of small-scale mining operations’ (p. 155), one of three proposed moves it identifies for ‘Improving the productivity of the mining sector in a rational and sustainable way’. Predictably, the government has shown more interest in developing its oil reserves, which are currently being worked/prospected in the Agadem block by the CNPC (China National Petroleum Corporation). Although a ‘minnow’ oil producer in comparison to its neighbours, Niger does produce 20,000 barrels daily, a figure which IMF officials have forecasted to rise to at least 65,000 barrels by 2018 (IMF, 2014). With the government’s main interest being to maximize rents from large-scale resource extraction, from which, by 2016, an estimated 26 percent of the country’s revenue will be derived, it is no surprise why, as one government official conceded in an interview, ‘Thus far, all attempts to control small-scale mining activities have failed’. Focusing on the case of Cambodia, Spiegel

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(2016) provides a glimpse of how difficult changing the mindset of policymakers can be in developing countries dependent upon revenue from large-scale mineral extraction.

A possible reason why, the same official explained, ‘[artisanal and small-scale] miners are left to their own devices and operate under unrecorded customary laws’, is that doing so reduces pressure on the central government to use rents from large-scale resource extraction for the benefit of the citizenry. If this is the case, then De Soto’s (2002) idea of legitimizing informal permits and deeds is bound to encounter some resistance. Under the present setup, and as observed in M’Banga, the Chef de Canton enjoys a level of influence likely unattainable in a more formalized arrangement; in the absence of government regulators, arrangements and contracts between financiers and miners go unrecorded. A more formalized setup, however, would surely diminish the sphere of influence of the Chef de Canton, which is why any blueprint to do so is unlikely to be endorsed by powerful local actors.

The final point which must be considered is whether the energy present in Niger’s extralegal ASM ‘space’ would carry over if formalized. Once again, based on the fieldwork undertaken, the innovative operators who De Soto (2002) would consider to be the ‘plucky’ entrepreneurs in this case are the ‘short-term miners’ or the migrant Burkinabe. Formalization would surely fuel a rapid exodus of the Burkinabe since only those who are residents of Niger can obtain an Artisanal Mining Permit, every request to obtain such a license must be made to the minister in French, and each inquiry must include details of the perimeters of the land on which the holder intends to work. Surely, the void created by the exodus of skill and ingenuity in the form of the departing Burkinabe would eventually be filled. But for the government to cultivate a viable replacement skill-base, it would need to pledge significant resources and time to the cause which, at the time of this research, it was in no position to do. The acute shortage of data on miners’ backgrounds and their whereabouts makes the feat near-impossible: at the time of writing, the government only had revenue data on 62 of the country’s operators (EITI, 2012).

To its credit, the government has established the DEMPEC, a dedicated unit within the Ministry of Mines and Energy which handles ASM affairs. But the logistical limitations of the unit quickly became apparent during fieldwork. A government official interviewed who was working in Djado, for example, explained that efforts to formalize ASM have been hamstrung by a shortage of government staff; the number of cards which need to be issued (he claimed to have issued 324 at the time of interviewing) and the paperwork needed to issue them; and the inability to adequately monitor the movements of incoming and departing ‘short-term miners’. The two government officials interviewed at Komabangou claimed to face similar challenges, having been tasked with monitoring the activities of the estimated 10,000 artisanal miners working in the area. The European Union pledged 35 million euros under PAPEAM to train 200 government officers in various geological issues and GIS, collect crucial geological data, and equip high-ranking officials with know-how and advice on ASM policy. 9 But this work, which will help to fortify the central DEMPEC office in Niamey, is unlikely to have much of an impact on staffing in local offices, an important step toward facilitating ‘bottom up’ formalization of ASM.

In summary, the formalization of ASM is a difficult undertaking, regardless of location. To achieve this in a country such as Niger, there must be significant political drive. It is, however, a lack of interest at the policymaking level which has been responsible for fuelling the growth of informal ASM activity across

9 See ‘A geological and mining information system for Niger’, http://www.brgm.eu/projects/geological-mining-information-system-niger (Accessed 12 October 2015).

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the country to begin with. It would seem, therefore, that a necessary first step is to convince the regime in Niger about how the widespread informality in the sector is largely its own ‘creation’.

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Figure 1: Simplified stakeholder map of artisanal and small-scale mining (ASM) in Niger

National level control

Formal control

Informal control

Independent actors

Figure 2: Depiction of the power structure of ASM in Niger

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Ministry of Mines and Industrial Development

Équipe mixtes (mixed teams)National security forces Chef de Canton

Artisanal small-Scale Mining community

Miner in “joint venture with financier

Financier

Informal trading counter

Official trading counter in Niamey

Landowners “terriens”

Blacksmith

Machinery operator

Gold treatment worker

Regional controlTraditional/customary control

Independent miner

General Direction of Mines and Geology

Ministry of Interior

Direction of small Scale and Artisanal mining (DEMPEC)

Stakes in Formalization

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'Chef de Can ton '

Se curity fo rce s, ge nd arm e rie o r

m in ing syn dicate

M in ing m in istry te am s (u su a lly 2 offi ce rs)

P it o w n e rs an d fin an cie rs

G old trad e rs, trad in g co un ter

A rti sana l m ine rs

O re extracto r, ore cru sh e rs, cyan id e an d m e rcury p lant op erato rs, m ach in e ry o p erato rs, b lacksm ith s

Poverty level

Stakes in Formalization

Figure 3: Declared artisanal gold mine production in Niger, 2001-2016

2 0 0 1 2 0 0 3 2 0 0 5 2 0 0 7 2 0 0 9 2 0 1 1 2 0 1 3 2 0 1 50

500

1000

1500

2000

2500

Year

Artis

anal

Gol

d M

ine

Prod

uctio

n (k

g)

Source: Data obtained from the Ministere des Mines, Niger

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Figure 4: Major artisanal gold mining areas in Western Niger, including the two study sites

Source: Modified from data obtained from the Ministere des Mines, Niger

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Figure 5: Miscellaneous taxes paid by Artisanal Mining Permit holders in Niger

Tax area Cost incurred and recurrence10

-Tax on pit ownership

-Exploitation tax ‘taxe de grammage’ 

Weight tax

-Individual ASM card

-Intermediary card (Machinery operator, Sluice box usage,

chemical usage, etc.)

-Tax on revenue

-Extraction tax

Supporting activities

-Tax on bovine cart

-Tax on road usage

-Tax on mule cart

Gold trading

-Tax on gold value

-Mining royalty fee of the value added (commercialization and

exportation)

-Approval for commercialization:

-Awarding

-1st renewal

-2nd renewal

-VAT

-20 000 CFA/year; £21/year

- 95CFA/ grams; £0.10/gram

-2 000 CFA/year; £2.15/year

-10 000CFA/year; £10.7/year

-30%

-250CFA/m3; £0.27/ m3 per year

-3 000CFA/year; £3.22/year

-100CFA/day; £0.11/day

-1 500CFA/day; £1.61/day

-2.5% /year

-3% /year

-1 million CFA/year; £1074

-£1074

-£1074

-19%

10 According to the Mining Code, 15 percent of mine revenues are allocated to the district in which production takes place.

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