The Extraordinary World of Diamonds

Nick Norman studied geology at theUniversity of Natal in Durban, where he graduated with an MSc in 1968. He has worked in mineral exploration in South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, Brazil and Chile, undertaking, in addition, shorter-term assignments

elsewhere in South America and Africa. For the last ten years he has consulted on diamond exploration and mining projects in South Africa, Lesotho and Angola. He is the co-author of Geological Journeys: A Traveller’s Guide to South Africa’s Rocks and Landforms (2006).

Front cover image: Vaaldiam Mining Inc., Toronto

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� e diamond is the brilliant emblem of endurance, the essence of romance, the stu� of legend. But behind the mystery lies an extraordinary and fascinating story, which stretches back to the deep geological time of the Earth’s formation. Indeed, the geological history of the diamond is so convoluted and complex that it has taken almost a hundred years to understand it fully. Only now can we grasp how perfectly this simple crystal of carbon symbolises creation in all its magni� cence.

Over the last hundred years, this understanding has been applied with dramatic results to the search for dia-monds across the globe, from the frozen wastes of Siberia, to the arid outback of Western Australia and the barren lands of Arctic Canada. � e stories of exploration and discovery are here recounted with close attention to the larger-than-life characters who prospected o� en against the odds, � nally struck it lucky and then built mines, companies or even empires out of their � nds.

Nor does the book ignore the practical aspects of its subject: it describes in graphic detail how geologists search for diamonds and miners extract them; explains the geometrically precise art of cutting and polishing the � nished gems; explores the development of a single global supply chain which for almost a hundred years was control-led exclusively by De Beers and the Oppenheimer dynasty; and looks at the underworld of illicit diamond buying and how ‘con� ict diamonds’ have fuelled some of Africa’s bloodiest rebellions.

Every aspect of this unique gem appears in this book as well as the stories that characterise the diamond’s remarkable history, sometimes bizarre, always romantic.

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u THE EXTRAORDINARY WORLD OF DIAMONDS

NICK NORMAN

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CONTENTS

Foreword 5Preface 7Acknowledgements 8

Introduction 11Where on Earth? 23Finding and mining diamonds 35India and Southeast Asia 51Brazil and Venezuela 71South Africa 91The rest of Africa 117Russia 151North America 165Australia 187Modern exploration and mining 208The formation of diamonds and their early travels 227Across the surface 248The supply chain 268

Glossary 289Notes 291Select bibliography 292Index 294Photo credits 302


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CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION

rom top to bottom the Earth’s crust shuddered in a brief spasm. On the surface Nqwebasaurus, a lizard-sized dinosaur, stopped in his tracks as the grass around him

stirred on a breathless African aft ernoon. He moved onto a stony mound and scanned his world in all directions. A loud rumble from deep below turned into a deafening roar as a black column of rock, from blocks bigger than he was to fi ne dust, broke through the surface and was blasted high into the sky. Th e explosion was closer to the horizon than to where he stood, yet the sun was blotted out. Gradually the shadow lightened as the stuff fell, most of it back into the opening the blast had made, some of it onto the ground around the vent, a raised rim. Th e cloud, now dissipating, looked black from where he was, except that once or twice, as he watched, he saw its darkness pierced by a tiny bright star catching the sun’s rays for an instant as it fell. Th e fi ne dust settled slowly, and aft er a while Nqwebasaurus continued on his way. He had witnessed a kimberlite eruption: diamonds in the sky.

Gaius Plinius Secundus – better known as Pliny the Elder – was not so lucky. In AD 79, Pliny helped evacuate residents of the towns around erupting Vesuvius. Prevented by volcanic debris from getting as close as he would have liked to the threatened towns, Pliny landed at Stabiae, 16 kilometres from the eruption vent. He died the following day, in a cruel twist of fate, himself a victim of the most violent eruption of the series.

Of diamond, or adamas in Greek (cf the English word ‘adamantine’), Pliny, a naturalist, had this to say, ‘Th e substance that possesses the greatest value, not only among precious stones, but of all human possessions, is adamas.’ When he penned the words for which he is best known, ‘Ex Africa semper aliquid novi’, he was making a connection that would manifest itself eighteen hundred years later.

In 1871 diamonds were discovered near Colesberg Kopje, in the centre of South Africa. Th ey were not the fi rst to be discovered in that country, but what makes them historically pivotal is that they were the fi rst to be discovered where no river had brought them, in the ‘mother lode’. By the time a sizeable town had sprung up next to the diggings, two years later, the place was named Kimberley, aft er the British Secretary of State for the Colonies, the Earl of Kimberley. It was not long before immortality came to the Colonial Secretary in a way he could never have dreamt of: the mother lode – the so-called blue ground – found its way into the geological lexicon as ‘kimberlite’.

INTRODUCTION


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If Pliny was tens of millions of years too late to see a kimberlite pipe erupt, he was two thousand too early to see the rock that brought his adamas to the surface. And if diamonds were discovered in South Africa in a time so recent as to have been captured on film, on a continent mostly unknown to the civilisations of Greece and Rome, where did these stones which he prized so highly come from?

They came from a country with an ancient recorded history, India, where their existence had been known for at least six hundred years. From the beginning the east-to-west trading route has carried not only the spices that Western palates relish but a sprinkling of fabulous gems besides. If the royal regalia of Indian potentates was adorned by the best that could be dug from the gravels of Golconda, Persian shahs and European princes were not to be upstaged.

That two and a half thousand years separate the first diamond rushes of India and South Africa is of interest to a handful of historians, but not to geologists. Their interest stretches back billions of years to when the crystals first began to form: to a time when there was no ocean separating the two coastlines that today face each other across the equator; to a time long before the fragmentation of the ancient supercontinent, Gondwana; before the collision between India, coming from the south, and Asia, far to the north, gave us a welt of buckled-up crust that towers over the rest of the planet, the Himalayas; to a time when the stable, deep-rooted nuclei of Africa and India shared the same neighbour- hood in Earth’s lithosphere. That is the time when – for diamonds – it all began.

In Africa there are several such nuclei – geologists call them cratons – still preserved. They were all penetrated at one time or

another by kimberlite pipes, the volcanic feeders that shot the diamonds from their source deep in the mantle to the surface. The West African cratons had a neighbour, too, which moved away across an ocean. The São Francisco craton in Brazil has distinguished itself by giving us diamonds, like those of India and Africa, illustrious enough to have earned names for themselves: among them the President Vargas, standing proud next to the Kohinoor and the Cullinan. Until the closing days of the second millennium, these three countries had produced the great majority of gem diamonds. In the history of diamonds, Brazil lies sandwiched between ancient India and modern South Africa.

By the late eighteenth century Europe’s rich and famous had acquired a taste for expensive baubles. The growth of interest was ill timed, though, for production from the alluvial fields of Golconda was dwindling. Gloom threatened. But good news was on the way via Portugal:


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INTRODUCTION u

in the Brazilian state of Minas Gerais, already an important gold producer and a veritable Aladdin’s chest of semi-precious stones, river diamonds had been found. And as European eyes turned westwards, those of the Brazilian prospectors, or garimpeiros, acquired a new focus. Now it was not only the tail of gold in a pan that drove them to extremes of hardship, it was also the shining pale crystal at the apex of a sieved heap of concentrate.

But the boom days in the eastern savannah of Brazil were short-lived. After a hundred years of free access to the European markets, the New World source was to be eclipsed. For in 1866 a frontier farmer on the Cape Colony’s Orange River near Hopetown was offered a shiny stone that had drawn his attention as a child’s plaything. Hardly believing his luck, he accepted it and gave it to the local trader when he next passed that way, with the request to have it identified. Confirmation from a doctor turned amateur geologist in Grahamstown that it was indeed a diamond stirred little excitement among pioneer prospectors, even less in the European markets; and for two years it was mainly farmers and their shepherds who picked up occasional small stones near the river. A steady stream of Brazilian stones was still reaching the polishing wheels and jewellery settings in Amsterdam and Antwerp, where diamonds from the Dark Continent to the south barely raised an eyebrow. It would take the ‘dry diggings’ around Colesberg Kopje in 1871 to change all that.

In March 1869 the discovery of an 83-carat stone on the Orange River was reported in the press, triggering a rush that within weeks would see rough tented camps dotted all along the Orange River and beyond. Richer pickings soon came to light along the Vaal River, a few days’ trek upstream from where it joins the Orange, and the camp of makeshift structures that came to be known as Barkly West was in a short time the centre of a helter-skelter rush. From there the fever spread; across the African veld eyes were turned downwards, for a sign, a glint, on the dusty paths.

No one could guess the impact of the first ‘dry diggings’, an easy day’s ride east of Barkly West. Far from any stream or river, diamonds had been found in yellow clay. With none of the boulders and pebbles that blunted picks on the river diggings, the going was quick and easy and, as they dug, the miners found a plentiful supply of gems. Though the quality of the stones


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may not have been as good as those from the river diggings, their profusion was unheard of. The biggest rush since Barkly West was soon under way, and buyers found themselves working late into the night, assembling parcels for dispatch to markets a world away.

Now the European merchants, or diamantaires, took notice. Not only was a supply reaching them as never before, but it included some of the finest stones they had ever seen. The diamond traffic was breaking out of the fetters that had bound it for two thousand years, when all stones came from river channels, far removed from the mother lode. With rich primary deposits located at last, the trade was about to enter a new era.

The key to this largesse lay not only in the discovery of the rock with a new name, kimberlite. Another hitherto unknown name was equally crucial: Cecil John Rhodes, who at the end of a bitter feud with a fellow entrepreneur-miner, Barney Barnato, had established himself as the king of Kimberley by 1888. And if the name kimberlite is well known to geologists, and Cecil Rhodes to historians and the scholarly elite, that of the company Rhodes formed to mine the rock has become a brand name second to none: De Beers or, to give it its full name, De Beers Consolidated Mines Limited.


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INTRODUCTION u

Since the late nineteenth century, the story of diamonds has been inextricably linked with that of De Beers. Together with the London Diamond Syndicate, formed to market the burgeoning production from the Kimberley mines, De Beers controlled the supply chain of diamonds by the turn of the century. The cartel was born of necessity. For the first time in history the supply of diamonds had become so prolific that it far outstripped demand. Retailers found new merchandise languishing on the shelves: if they were to drop the prices any further, they would be selling at a loss. For De Beers and the Syndicate the solution was simple: they would throttle the flow into the market. The rate of mining was slowed and purchases from diggers all but stopped. Imperceptibly, as the European showcases became less cluttered, the scales began to tip. Slowly, ever so watchfully, stockpiled stones were released into the market. But diggers and mine managers knew that the honeymoon was over.

The next blow De Beers was dealt would prove almost fatal. When Cecil Rhodes died in March 1902, just short of his fiftieth birthday, the diamond-mining industry was about to be turned on its head by the purchase of a farm just east of Pretoria by a man named Tom Cullinan. The pipe that Cullinan had been sure existed on the farm, first known as the Premier and much later renamed after its discoverer, was as big as all the Kimberley pipes together and soon was producing a regular supply of large stones of the finest quality. With De Beers no longer able to exert the stranglehold on supply necessary to stabilise prices, the industry entered a free market environment. Stones flooded the markets in Antwerp, Amsterdam and London.

And the situation would get worse before it got better. In 1908 the discovery of a diamond by a labourer clearing sand off the railway track near Lüderitz in German South West Africa (now Namibia) precipitated a rush that would open a vast new diamond field, in a foreign land a world away from Kimberley and Pretoria. Soon the supply had become a torrent.

It took the onset of hostilities in Europe in 1914, a few years and a mild-mannered Jewish entrepreneur to restore stability to an industry in turmoil. But we need to turn the clock back, to 1902. A pivotal year for the diamond industry, it not only saw Rhodes’s death, and the discovery of the Premier pipe; it also marked the arrival of Ernest Oppenheimer in Kimberley. Twenty-two-year-old Ernest had been sent by his diamond-dealing family in London to look after their interests in the Cape. He quickly filled the niche his uncles had seen for him there and was soon widely respected for his discernment and acumen. But for him, and for now, the real opportunity lay further north. On the Witwatersrand, he showed the entrepreneurship that was to become the hallmark for him and for future generations of Oppenheimers. Using ingenuity and American financing, he set up the Anglo American Corporation, soon to be a powerhouse in the gold mines opening up all along an ever-extending strip of highveld. In an arena of business opportunity without equal anywhere in


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the early twentieth century, the young Ernest Oppenheimer had shown that he was a force to be reckoned with.

Up-and-coming gold baron he might have been, but his passion for diamonds never left him. That fervour, matched with vigilance and quiet persuasiveness, would soon secure for Oppenheimer the Atlantic coast diamonds that the British and their colonial surrogate, South Africa, had made their own with the defeat of the German forces in South West Africa. Oppenheimer incorporated his new acquisition into the Consolidated Diamond Mines Limited. This powerful foothold in the diamond world, and his relentless purchase of De Beers stock, ultimately won Sir Ernest Oppenheimer, now converted to Christianity and knighted for his contribution to the war effort, the chair – and control – of De Beers in 1929. His lifelong goal had been achieved. With the Premier Mine forced by the crippling pre-1914 price war into the arms of De Beers, Oppenheimer’s control of diamond mining was all but complete.

Now that he had assumed the running of De Beers, Oppenheimer had one last item of business to attend to in the marketplace. Though not prevalent at the time, chaos at that end of the diamond chain was always a threat. Oppenheimer had seen it once and was determined that it wouldn’t happen again. The producers – mainly De Beers, but with West African and


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INTRODUCTION u

Brazilian mines by no means inconsequential – were at one end of the chain, the consumers at the other, and between them lay a chasm. It was a void in which stones with an infinite spread of values, and diamantaires with an almost equal range of integrity, teetered between supply and demand with the balance changing daily. Only single-channel marketing of rough – as uncut diamonds are called – would bridge the chasm and prevent the oversupply that had seen prices tumble headlong.

When the players dusted themselves off and their eyes had cleared, they saw that no one, barring the few who had bought as the market bottomed, had gained from the fracas. Oppenheimer reinstated the old syndicate. Though never existing as a commercial entity, the Central Selling Organisation, in Charterhouse Street in the heart of London, would effectively maintain tight control of the supply of rough into the marketplace for decades, until it was replaced by the formally constituted Diamond Trading Company, a wholly owned subsidiary of De Beers. For an incredible fifty years the Oppenheimer family held absolute sovereignty in the world of diamonds. For as long as production was concentrated in South Africa, Namibia and, later, Botswana, diamonds were the unchallenged fiefdom of De Beers, apparently impregnable.


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What undid the monopoly, starting in the late 1970s, was technology. As long as exploration had been carried out on the ground, using techniques that were tried and tested but shrouded in jealous secrecy, the world belonged to De Beers. But a new age was dawning, an age of easy intercontinental communication, of helicopters for hire, and of scientifi c discovery emanating from universities in the public domain. Fortress De Beers was about to be penetrated.

In 1991 diamonds were discovered in Canada – not just in the tantalising ones and twos that had peppered exploration results in the United States for decades, but in quantity. And not by De Beers. Suddenly Canada was where all the action was – until Australia entered the fray. A massive deposit of diamonds had been found in Western Australia by the new boy on the block, CRA, a subsidiary of the powerful Rio Tinto group. At the same time the Russians, long

JOHN RUDD

With great-grandfather Charles Rudd having served Cecil Rhodes with distinction, and grandfather and father both De Beers men, it was hardly surprising that John

chose to make his career in the diamond empire. He too started by working in close association with the head of the group, in this instance Sir Ernest Oppenheimer, to whom he was a particularly eff ective personal assistant. Aft er many years of distinguished management in the industrial diamonds division, John became editor-in-chief of Indiaqua (Industrial Diamond Quarterly), serving the international industry and carrying articles of interest to all diamond geologists. Keenly awaited by subscribers, it usually carried photographs of scantily clad maidens who, though oft en irrelevant to the articles they graced, brightened an otherwise cheerless subject. Even if John did grow more eccentric with the passing years, his intellect and memory were second to none; he was a fi ne raconteur and a wonderful friend. He was 82 when he died in August 2009, full of years.


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INTRODUCTION u

a relatively minor producer of diamonds from the Arctic Circle, were scaling up production. An empire that, until recently, had seemed invincible was showing widening cracks.

If technology has given us a level playing field, with new listings by diamond explorers a regular event on bourses from Toronto to Sydney, it has provided another, less manifest service that in its quiet way far outstrips the normalisation of an industry. It has given us a window into the workings of planet Earth that we would never have had without the diamond: a looking glass on the other side of which is a wonderland every bit as bizarre as the one Alice encountered. Except that this wonderland – the cradle of diamonds – is not the creation of a Victorian clergyman’s imagination: it is as real as the galaxies we see in the night sky. As unreachable, certainly, and, until a few decades ago, as unknowable, yet it’s close, at our feet, and, page by page, technology is opening it up to us, just as it shrinks the universe about us.

We shan’t go underground yet, though. Let us rather look at a world map showing the distribution of diamond production. We find a pleasing, if rough, symmetry to the pattern, especially if in our mind’s eye we bring South America back to Africa and, in a far less predictable move, India back against Kenya and Tanzania, where – improbably – it came from, as Gondwana broke up. Far up to the northwest is Canada; and to the southeast,


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Australia. Where have all of history’s big stones – gems so distinguished they have earned names for themselves – come from? India, Africa and Brazil. It’s an approximate east–west axis. Where have the new finds of global importance been made? Australia, with a huge preponderance of small stones, none named, and Canada, with fabulously rich deposits of good stones though without the equal of Gondwana’s giants.

But that’s hardly science. Neither are the photographs we are shown of nodules studded with diamonds in a profusion that outranks any other concentration by orders of magnitude. Nodules are exotic, dense, beautifully travel-rounded fragments, mostly smaller than a rugby ball, some packed with garnets, and found only in a few select kimberlites. To those who first studied them – and all since then – their extraordinary mineral make-up and geochemistry point to an origin in the mantle and make them intensely worthy of research. Now we know that they and the diamonds were fellow travellers in the kimberlite.

This is new thinking, though. To earlier generations of geologists it was axiomatic that diamonds were an integral part of the kimberlite in which they were found. No one questioned it. Diamonds are unique, kimberlite is unique. Surely both formed in conditions like no other mineral, no other rock; in a layer of the Earth we call the asthenosphere, below the solid part of the mantle called the lithosphere and by far the deepest source of any magma we see crystallised at the surface today.


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INTRODUCTION u

Slowly a gathering body of evidence has opened another possibility, a new model that would demolish the old. Most of that evidence came from the nodules, and from the realisation that it was only where there was thick craton – as the most ancient con- tinental nuclei are called – sending roots deep into the mantle that the kimberlites collected their precious load. And with this new premise came the realisation that the diamonds did not start the upward journey with the kimberlite magma; they were opportunistic hitchhikers, collected along the way.

That seminal breakthrough was made thanks to a few dedicated specialist geology professors and to deductive reasoning that would have made Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot proud. And it is those rarest of rare diamond-bearing nodules – only a few have been found on six continents during centuries of mining – that are exhibit A, proving beyond any doubt the consanguinity, the shared genealogy, of the nodules and the diamonds.

But there’s a deeper mystery than where the gems came from. Scientists have known for decades that diamonds are more than the hallmark of brilliance and hardness: each one is a miracle. They know that crystalline carbon – as diamond – is not stable at the ambient


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temperature and pressure at Earth’s surface. Diamonds shouldn’t be here: their shiny crystals should have oxidised to common carbon dioxide, long before they reached the surface. Science says it’s impossible, yet there they are, defiant in their perfection.

A decade or two ago we would have said the case was beyond solving. What we couldn’t know then was that time would tell all; that we simply had to wait for technology to come of age. Then a steady stream of clues – from the kimberlite, from the nodules and from the diamonds themselves – would reward countless painstaking hours of research, and from the assembled clues would come the long-awaited answers.

Now the history can be told, for science has given us, in a grand climax, the key to unlock the diamond itself and prise those last secrets from deep inside it. It is an unfolding story more dramatic than any fiction. We should be thankful for the diamond: brilliant emblem of endurance, essence of romance and, not least, messenger from a world more dramatic than even Jules Verne could imagine.


The Extraordinary World of Diamonds

Documents

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