The outsiders: mining camp splits a town

The Sydney Morning Herald August 4, 2012 by Nicole Hasham

Fly-in fly-out workers have left Narrabri counting the cost, writes Nicole Hasham.

It's affectionately known as the MAC and, for a few days each week, more than 200 mine workers call it home. But wary residents have another name for it: Christmas Island.

Perched on the edge of Narrabri on a swath of former grazing land is a village within a village - a new-generation mining camp that has polarised a country town in the grip of the NSW resources boom.
All over the state, clusters of steel ''resort-style'' dongas are springing up as the quest for coal moves north and west, leaving labour-hungry mines scrambling to house hordes of itinerant workers.

Once complete, the Narrabri MAC Village will house almost 900 fly-in, fly-out miners from Queensland, Western Australia, New Zealand and NSW, who work shifts up to 12 hours and collect an average wage above $100,000 a year.

About $3 billion in coal-related investment is due to flood the Gunnedah Basin in the next decade, directly employing up to 800 people and transforming towns where farming once ruled. In the Narrabri shire, five coal mines are already operating and two more are set to begin. Up to half the workers needed are expected to either fly or drive in.

The convergence has brought housing markets in mining towns to boiling point. In Narrabri, landlords who struggled to fetch $200 a week for a home five years ago now collect $350. One crisis centre reported a doubling in homeless women and children last year and tourists have been squeezed out of motels filled with miners.

Enter the US-owned MAC Services Group, which can turn a vacant lot into a landscaped, 3.5-star village within months.
''Mining developments require, in their early stages, a lot of people quickly,'' says Peter McCann, the managing director of MAC. ''The influx of a lot of workers into a small country town can cause significant challenges. We are able to deploy accommodation quickly, which takes pressure off the local community.''

Already established in Queensland and Western Australia, MAC has made a rapid foray into NSW. Narrabri opened last year and approval has been granted for a 1500-bed village at Werris Creek. If developments planned or approved for Muswellbrook, Boggabri and Gulgong come to fruition, beds across the state would number almost 4000, doubling the populations of some towns.

But the incursion of ready-made suburbs populated by mostly male shift workers can cause waves among townsfolk, says Jon-Maree Baker of the Namoi Community Action Group.

''The MAC village creates a community that is essentially isolated. Predominantly the workforce is single men on our doorstep, who are essentially in a camp living arrangement,'' she says. ''Fly-in, fly-out workers, without sounding parochial, are viewed slightly as intruders.''

Keen to avoid the ''us and them'' mentality that has plagued developments by various firms in other mining towns, Narrabri council asked for strict conditions to be imposed on the MAC. The village was built within the town limits and, to encourage guests to spend money outside the complex, no pool, bar or gym was built.

The chief executive of the Narrabri RSL, Paul Gordon, can count the benefits. He says hungry miners seeking a steak and a beer helped the club reach record profits last year.

''They work all over the shop in terms of times but they do come here in small groups,'' he says. ''I see them walking past all the time carrying grocery bags. Certainly people from the MAC village are patronising the town.''

Not every business is booming, however. Retail has reported little growth and while the MAC kitchen uses produce from a local greengrocer, its meat comes from Queensland.

Mine worker Sam McDowell, 25, of Morpeth, heads into town with his workmates for one reason only.

''We head into the local gym every morning but, other than that, no [we don't go anywhere else]. Everything is provided here,'' he says.

The presence of the miners on Narrabri's doorstep, venturing into town for recreation or business, can lead to problems. Submissions to a current Senate inquiry into fly-in, fly-out workforces alleged women were being harassed at Narrabri pubs and, in some cases, offered money for sex. Other groups reported that violent outbreaks were on the rise as tensions between miners and residents overflowed.

In March, police were called to the MAC to break up a drunken brawl involving 15 men and media reports suggested residents were involved. But police deny reports of an ongoing rift, or a rise in anti-social behaviour, and such events are isolated, McCann says.

''In 17 years of operation, we've never had an incident like that. We have a strict code of conduct for people staying in village and if people don't comply with that conduct, they are not welcome,'' he says.

In a bid to win over the town, the MAC has become an enthusiastic philanthropist. Frequent donations have helped the Narrabri Blues rugby league team buy guernseys and strapping and funded interactive whiteboards at the primary school.

''It's a huge priority for us to be regarded as part of the local community, we are pretty genuine about that,'' McCann says.

But Baker views the gesture with suspicion. ''What the MAC has tried to do is purchase its social licence,'' she says. ''Before the village and mining came to Narrabri, we were actually quite self-sufficient … that's been replaced with a handout mentality.''

While the village has divided opinion, most in Narrabri agree it will act as a ''pressure valve'' to alleviate an accommodation squeeze that has reached critical levels. Similar effects have been recorded in mining centres including Nyngan, Cobar and Orange.

Katrina Handley, 37, found herself homeless earlier this year after a relationship breakdown forced her into the private rental market. Handley's casual wage as an administrative assistant was not enough to cover ballooning rents. She and two of her four children spent two months sleeping in the lounge room of her grandmother's home before finding refuge accommodation.

The family now has a three-bedroom flat in the centre of Narrabri but the lease ends in December and Handley fears for the future.

''We need more houses here. You can't afford to buy, you can't afford to rent, what do you do?'' she says.

The Narrabri Family Crisis Centre says 131 women and children sought emergency accommodation in 2011, up from 66 people the previous year.

McCann insists mining camps are not a cure-all for accommodation pressures in mining towns and says there are ''multiple solutions, including building new subdivisions''.

The Narrabri mayor, Robyn Faber, says a permanent mining workforce is key to ensuring that if the mining boom falters, it does not take the town down with it.

''The danger is that the bottom drops out of the market and all of a sudden everyone just disappears and leaves us with commitments that still have to be funded,'' she says, citing the council's $8 million expansion of Narrabri Airport.

''[Airlines] can walk away with four weeks' notice and that's it - you look around and hope you can get another airline.

''If you want to keep teachers in your schools and doctors in your hospitals, you need numbers.''

Lee-Anne Melbourne, a resident whose family owns a farm on the outskirts of Narrabri, says miners who call the town home have invigorated the region.
''They are getting involved in the schools, in the communities, some have brought new skills to the town because they bring the whole family with them,'' she says. ''We need to work out how we encourage them to live in the communities they are moving into, so the social structure is developed in the town and so it's not a ghost town when they leave.''

Narrabri council says fringe benefits offered to mining companies to help cover the cost of fly-in, fly-out workforces should be wound back and replaced by tax incentives that encourage permanent housing.

The NSW Minerals Council says a ''one size fits all solution'' would not satisfy the needs of different towns and it is working with regions and governments to find solutions to housing problems.

But Baker questions why, with the mining boom in full swing, answers have not yet been found.

''The mining industry has been having this sort of fly-in, fly-out impact for 30-odd years and are not inexperienced in this issue, yet they have not done any … research to ensure they are not replicating [problems],'' she says. ''We are not saying that the MAC villages are necessarily bad, we are not saying mining is bad. What we are saying is the community needs to be better planned.''

Yet another reason to apply as a group for a location and go caravanning. Mingle with the locals. Country folks are generally friendlier than city ones. Parehas ra sa ato.

As mentioned, they prefer miners who call the town home. Invigorates the region.
"us and them": Seem to recall a Filipino tribe being attacked by other tribes as having that mentality. Isn't the Boholano term for that "izza2X, aho2x"? Hehehe.

Australian Mining 21 August, 2012 Andrew Duffy

It's not difficult to find stories blaming fly-in fly-out workers for a rise in crime and disorder in mining communities.
But according to research by Professor John Scott from the University of New England, figuring out whether these reports correspond with reality is much trickier.
After spending time interviewing locals in regional Western Australia Scott and Kerry Carrington from Queensland University of Technology have come to unusual conclusions about the impact of FIFO workers.
According to Scott and Carrington while fear of crime is on the rise in these rapidly expanding communities, quite often actual crime is not.
"Crime isn't necessarily going up in mining communities despite there being a sense that the crime rate is increasing," Scott told Australian Mining.
How it got started
Scott said his FIFO study started after he noticed certain parallels between reports on crime in agricultural communities and mining towns.
"The typical story you get on crime in agricultural regions is that it's largely an Aboriginal problem," he said.
"Statistically we know this isn't the case. Violence is a community-wide issue and by no means confined to one particular group."
Scott told Australian Mining when researchers picked mining towns in WA with small indigenous populations crime was instead projected onto the FIFO workforce.
"Instead of blaming the Indigenous community for crime the locals blamed the FIFOs," he explained.
In this way Scott said crime was most often viewed in the public's mind as the fault of the outsider population.
Importantly Scott said research showed fear of crime, an issue outside crime itself, ballooned in communities that saw rapid development.
"Surveys indicate social disorder and unwelcome individuals and groups are associated with crime, which presents as a breakdown of social cohesion, and a loosening of moral standards.
"Studies have argued that people in rural towns are not actually fearful of crime itself, but are concerned with what they perceive as the threat to their rural idyll."
 
Just the facts
After setting up the background Scott said checking claims about FIFO workers against hard data was the key to determining their impact.
And he said the data did not always suggest claims about FIFO workers were accurate.
"There were wild rumours floating around, like 'one of them killed somebody'," he said.
"None of this was backed by any evidence.
"In fact, despite a rising population and a decrease in social integration, official crime rates in these areas have remained stable or even dropped."
Scott said while there was no doubt there were real examples of FIFO workers causing havoc in the community the issue wasn't always as clear cut as many community members, and parts of the media, saw it.
"We did get reports of conflict between local residents and FIFOs, but it wasn't always clear the FIFOs were responsible for having caused that conflict," he said.
But despite the disconnect Scott said there were a number of legitimate concerns brought on by the increased FIFO workforce, including the strain on local infrastructure and services.
But claims of rising crime, so often the focus of community members and the media, usually had little basis in fact.
Scott said usually large increases in population were linked to an increase in crime and while it still remained a theory, there could be an explanation for why crime had not risen significantly in mining communities.
"The reason I think it's not happening is because one of the things that occurs because of the expanding mining industry and FIFO work is a rise in the cost of living," he said.
"Criminologists know that crime is linked to social disadvantage, but if your socially disadvantaged people can't afford to live in the region any more that may be a factor."

The rumour mill
Scott said rumour and gossip played an important role in the ideas and stories of crime, and some news coverage had also played a role in this construction.
"The media isn't isolated from the good-guy bad-guy story telling," he said.
Scott also said gossip played a role in segregating the community and creating the marginalised groups that were blamed for society's ills.
On one level he said gossip acted as a vehicle for permanent residents to express "shock and horror" at the behaviour of groups that did not conform with the typical idea of community life.
On another level he said previous study showed gossip often reduced intricate events into "stereotypical representations" which marred the complexities they deserved.
"Gossip was a device to distinguish and amplify what were considered to be the worse qualities, real or imagined, among FIFO workers and generalise these to the group as a whole."
Feeding into the ideas of gossip Scott said jealousy also played a part in stories about the FIFO workforce.
"Resentment and conflict also occur because unskilled and semi-skilled miners often earn more money and occupy better and cheaper housing than professional workers," he said.
Connecting all of these ideas is the fact that despite their size, regional communities and locals are highly organised and can be powerful storytellers.
With links to the local media they're quite often more effective at telling their story than the mining companies and workers.
What results is an unexpected power imbalance where the interests of sections of the community are heard louder than those of large companies.
"There's this idea that communities are powerless in the fact of a lot of the change that's going on," Scott said.
"To a certain extend what we're seeing isn't necessarily one group that has all the power and another that has nothing, we're seeing a bit of a contest going on."
 
Life's good
Some of Scott's findings, particularly on the role of gossip and jealousy, will prove to be provocative for community members.
Nevertheless he's confident the data, surveys, and research backs him up.
And beyond critiquing locals Scott's research tells an encouraging story about our mining communities.
By highlighting the disconnect between claims about FIFO workers and the reality, he proves what many workers and locals already know.
Life in mining towns is not as bad as it's often portrayed.
Whether in Queensland or WA, these towns are not the disordered places often pictured in the media or public imagination.
While there are serious issues hindering their development, they're often more tranquil than you'd expect.
________________________

In a nutshell, the fears are unfounded.