The force of the explosion blew the top off the mine entrance, shooting it more than a mile upward and decimating the mine's steel roof supports. Nearby townspeople felt the effect of the blast; windows shattered and houses shook violently. For the next six days, all of Canada held its breath as rescue crews desperately searched for survivors. Inadequate training, disaster plans and safety equipment hampered rescue efforts. Ultimately, rescuers efforts would prove futile.
Public backlash was instantaneous. One House of Commons speaker described Westray as a "federally assisted job project [that created] a tomb, a mine so unsafe that eleven bodies have yet to be recovered."
Cries of foul play rang out in the streets, rolled off the presses and reverberated through the courts. Almost immediately, the company was stripped of the coveted J.T. Ryan Award for Safety awarded, ironically, just day's earlier to "the safest coal mine in Canada in 1991." A report revealed that company officials had "fudged" accident statistics. "We now know that the reality at Westray often did not match company records," said one report.
Legal investigations soon revealed other anomalies. Evidence of stolen, hidden, altered and misleading records surfaced, along with findings of a blatant disregard for human safety. Management's abuse of power was uncovered: those in charge had ignored or silenced the warnings of the very miners who would die in the blast. State-of-the-art equipment turned out to be not so state-of-the-art.
Some called for criminal action against the "liars, cowards and tricksters" responsible for mine operations. Others called the entire project "ill-conceived, poorly-planned, and incompetently operated." Still others suggested that government and mine safety officials were complicit in their negligence, labelling their behaviour "malicious non-compliance."
It did seem that government officials were in bed with investors from the beginning. Provincial and federal governments had invested heavily -- both financially and through controversial agreements requiring the purchase of excess coal. When Liberal MLA Bernie Boudreau warned Labour Minister Leroy Legere that the mine was "potentially one of the most dangerous in the world," the minister replied that his people were "doing as good a job at Westray as they are doing at all other mines in Nova Scotia."
Following the tragedy, questions abounded. Why were safety issues given so little weight? Why was unqualified management hired, then allowed to intimidate employees into silence? Why didn't the government monitor activities more closely? Why was the mine allowed to open when there were so many apparent problems from the outset? In the end, the Public Inquiry concluded, "The cost of operating in such an adverse environment and the inherent uncertainties would suggest that the financial viability of the Westray project should have been in doubt from the very beginning."
Westray's infractions read like a recipe for disaster: open torches, untrained personnel, unqualified managers, managerial disdain for safety, defective or ineffective safety equipment, rampant methane levels, poor ventilation, and a failure to comply with April 29 orders from the Department of Labour regarding dangerous levels of coal dust.
In The Westray Tragedy: A Miner's Story, Shaun Comish describes the details of the explosion, a description closely echoing the Public Inquiry Report, "At 5:20 in the morning on May 9, 1992, a miner working in the Southwest section of the Westray mine was using a continuous miner to cut coal. As he cut into the coalface, the picks on the cutting head struck some pyrite embedded there, causing a shower of sparks. He had seen the sparks before, but this time they ignited some methane gas seeping from the coal seam. He jumped down off the miner, terrified at what he saw as he tried to put on his survival equipment. In moments he was dead."
The circumstances leading up to the explosion were far more complex and predictable. It became evident from the beginning that Westray was a ticking time bomb. Estimated at 45 million tons, the Foord's reserves contained some of the world's finest coal - with low sulphur content and high BTU rating. Pictou coal had been mined since 1807. However, the profit coming out of the mine had always been stained with labourers' blood.
In the 150 years before Westray's opening, Pictou mines had already claimed well over six hundred lives. The Foord seam alone, upon which Westray is based, had claimed 244 lives. The Foord seam was legendary not only for its rich resources, but also for several other traits: exceptionally high levels of methane gas, a propensity for spontaneous combustion, and geological faults which almost guaranteed roof collapse. Less than two months before the explosion, geological upsets had sent miners fleeing from project. Major roof and wall falls occurred as often as Sunday sermons.
Unfortunately, coal was a necessary evil for easterners. Even into the twenty-first century, it fuelled all but 20% of Nova's Scotia electrical power. Consequently, government-owned Nova Scotia Power Corporation contracted with project owner Clifford Frame to deliver 275,000 tonnes of coal per year for 15 years. Frame's Curragh Resources Incorporated created the subsidiary Westray Coal to construct and operate the mine intended to fulfil that contract. The contract would never be fulfilled.
One has to wonder why, when the mine was knowingly unsafe, workers would daily risk their lives. A report by Gerald J.S. Wilde of Queen's University sheds some light on that question. Wilde concluded that while some did quit, others remained because they perceived the seriousness and probability of risk as minimal. He added, "the willingness to accept high levels of danger . . . may be attributed to . . . various factors, among which [are] economic pressures and economic incentives." In short: danger pays.
Following the 1992 explosion, Westray would never again re-open. Both the mother company and Westray itself became bankrupt. And although it was never supposed to happen, the federal government's guarantee was called in at the bank. Tax dollars paid $85,000,000 for coal that would never see the light of day.
In the inquiry that followed, Justice K. Peter Richard concluded, "The Westray Story is a complex mosaic of actions, omissions, mistakes, incompetence, apathy, cynicism, stupidity, and neglect. Some well-intentioned but misguided blunders were also added to the mix. It was clear from the outset that the loss of 26 lives at Plymouth, Pictou County, in the early morning hours of 9 May 1992 was not the result of a single definable event or misstep. Only the serenely uninformed (the wilfully blind) or the cynically self-serving could be satisfied with such an explanation."
Despite incriminating evidence, Frame refused to admit any culpability. A 1997 Halifax Chronicle-Herald article quoted Frame protesting, "I'm sitting up here in Toronto . . . How in the name of God would I know that anybody was adjusting a methane detector? . . .And if I didn't know that, how could I have any feeling of guilt, other than the fact that I shouldn't have developed the Goddamned mine in the first place."
Nevertheless, Frame was not ready to get out of the coal game. That same year Angus HighGrader Magazine revealed that Frame was "mounting a hostile takeover bid of Australian listed Greenfields Coal Company" located in West Virginia. Happily, an unprecedented 72% of shareholders vetoed that attempt.
Today, in spite of a 700-page inquiry report and extensive investigations, far too many questions remain unanswered. In an effort to bring some resolution to this irresolvable tragedy, Westray Families Group erected a monument at the site in 1993.
Return to Feature Articles
Home