Racism and Human Ecology: White Supremacy in Twentieth-Century South Africa [1 ed.] 9783412503604, 9783412503550

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KÖLNER HISTORISCHE ABHANDLUNGEN Für das Historische Institut herausgegeben von Norbert Finzsch, Sabine von Heusinger, Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp und Ralph Jessen Band 55

RACISM AND HUMAN ECOLOGY White Supremacy in Twentieth-Century South Africa

von

KATHARINA LOEBER

Mit 36 Tabellen, 4 Karten und 14 Abbildungen

BÖH LAU VE RLAG WI E N KÖLN WE I MAR

Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Bibliothek: Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über http://dnb.de abrufbar. © 2019 by Böhlau Verlag GmbH & Cie, Lindenstraße 14, D-50674 Köln Alle Rechte vorbehalten. Das Werk und seine Teile sind urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Verwertung in anderen als den gesetzlich zugelassenen Fällen bedarf der vorherigen schriftlichen Einwilligung des Verlages. Umschlagabbildung: Bildnachweis Cover: Thaba Nchu, a Barolong Village, Orange River Colony, South Africa (© 1904 by Underwood and Underwood) Korrektorat: Cynthia Peck-Kubaczek, Wien Satz: büro mn, Bielefeld Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht Verlage | www.vandenhoeck-ruprecht-verlage.com ISBN 978-3-412-50360-4

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Acknowledgment  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 0. Introduction  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 0.1 Research Question  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 0.2 Theory and Methods  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 0.3 Sources  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 0.4 State of Research  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 1. The Implementation of Apartheid, Conservationism, and the Beginning of Betterment Planning  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 1.0 Introduction  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 1.1 The Union of South Africa: Legislation, Administration, and the Beginning of Spatial Segregation  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24

1.1.1 The Early Union and the Natives Land Act 1913  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 1.1.2 The Second Phase of the Union: White Poverty and Racially Ordered Legislation  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32 1.1.3 Land Disposal Policies and Native Administration during the Segregation Years  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37 1.2 Environmentalism, Planning of Spatial Segregation, and Early Betterment Schemes  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43

1.2.1 Environmental History and Land Approach  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 1.2.2 Environmentalism and the Origins of Soil Conservation Programmes  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 1.2.3 The Beginning of Spatial Planning and the Implementation of Soil Conservation in African Areas  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 1.2.4 Soil Conservation in White Areas  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 1.3 Conclusion  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 2. A ‘Modern’ Racially Ordered State – Social and Spatial Engineering, Crisis, and Collapse  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 2.0 Introduction  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 2.1 Social Engineers at Work  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71 2.1.1 Implementing Apartheid  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71 2.1.2 Territorial Planning: The Tomlinson Commission, Homeland Policy, and Betterment  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75

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2.1.3 Development of Native Administration  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 2.2 Village Planning and Betterment Schemes  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84

2.2.1 Natal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 2.2.2 Ciskei: Peddie District  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 2.2.3 Transkei .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91 2.2.4 Western Areas  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 2.2.5 The Impact of Betterment on Land Tenure and Reactions of the African Population  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96 2.3 Homeland Policy: The Core of Apartheid  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 2.3.1 Consolidation of Bantu Homelands: Spatial and Social Engineering  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 2.3.2 Bantustan Independence: Highlights of Spatial and Social Engineering  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111 2.3.3 The Homelands  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118 2.4 Ethnic Categorisation and Population Distribution: Key Elements of Engineering Apartheid  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128

2.4.1 Creating a Population Shift: South African Statistics  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . 128 2.4.2 Forced Removals  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133 2.5 Conclusion  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144 3. From Imperial Ecology to Uncertain Sustainability: Ecological Engineering and the Impact on the Human-­Environmental Complex in the Bantustans  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 3.0 Introduction  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 3.1 South African Bantustans: Coerced Socio-­Ecological Systems?  . . . . . . 148 3.1.1 Main Terms of SES Theory  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148 3.1.2 The Homelands in SES Theory and Imperial Ecology  . . . . . . . . . . . . 151 3.1.3 Uncertain Sustainability and Coercion as Working Hypothesis for African SES ?  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154 3.2 Measures of Ecological Engineering in South Africa  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 3.2.1 Environmentalism in South Africa during Grand Apartheid  .. . . . . 158 3.2.2 Ecological Engineering in White Areas  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 3.2.3 Ecological Engineering in African Areas  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 3.3 Soil Erosion in Different Landscapes and Land-­Use Patterns  . . . . . . . . . 179 3.3.1 Desertification and Land Degradation  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179 3.3.2 Land Degradation, Land-­Use Patterns and the Question of Land Tenure Systems  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 3.3.3 Colonial and Post-­Colonial Impacts on Vegetation in South Africa.195 3.4 Conclusion  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200

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4. Thaba Nchu  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202 4.0 Introduction  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202 4.1 History of the Study Region: Pre-­Apartheid Turning Points  . . . . . . . . . . 203 4.1.1 Description and Overview  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203 4.1.2 Segregation Era  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209 4.2 Creating a Bantustan  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 4.2.1 Detailed Planning Until the 1950s  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 4.2.2 Detailed Planning, Betterment and Conservation  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 226 4.2.3 Unrest at Sediba vs. an Interlocked Barolong Elite: Reaction to the Enforcement of Betterment  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 4.3 An ‘Independent Republic’ Bophuthatswana  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246 4.3.1 Bantustan Consolidation: Ethnicism and Nationalism  .. . . . . . . . . . . 246 4.3.2 Population Distribution, Ethnic Tension, and Displaced Urbanisation  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 4.3.3 Agricultural Change  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 4.4 Environmental History  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 4.4.1 Ecological Conditions in the Pre-­Betterment Era and 100 Years Later: A Lack of Management?  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 4.4.2 Betterment .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277 4.4.3 Subsidisation of Agriculture in Bophuthatswana  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282 4.5 Conclusion  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285 5. Conclusion  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287 5.1 Spatial Engineering  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289 5.2 Environmental Power and Socio-­Ecological Systems  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 297 Bibliography  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 303 Archival Sources  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 303 Files of the National Archives South Africa (NASA ):  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 303 National Archives Repository (SAB )  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 304 Free State Repository (VAB )  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309 Cape Town Archives Repository (KAB )  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309 Government Publications  .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 310 Secondary Literature  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313

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Acknowledgment

This book is based on my dissertation which I finished in December 2016. The book, as well as my dissertation, would never have been possible without the support and help of many people. First and foremost, I would like to thank Prof. Dr. Norbert Finzsch for his support and advice on methodological and theoretical problems during the research and writing process. I thank all colleagues who supported me academically and practically during the doctorate. The dissertation emerged in the context of the research project Resilience, Collapse and Reorganisation in East- and South Africa’s Savannahs (RCR ) funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG ). Thanks to all colleagues of the RCR project and other research projects in Cologne, Bonn, Bloemfontein and Cape Town. Last but not least, I would like to thank my family and friends, namely Jan Dahlhaus, Ursula and Jochem Loeber and Monika Dahlhaus for feedback reading, babysitting, saving my daily life several times and of course for cheering me up whenever it was necessary. Nevertheless, the book is dedicated to my sons Juri and Lando who already know a lot about writing a Ph. D.

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0. Introduction

The research project upon which this volume is based dealt with the territorial planning, racism, and environmental protection measures in their function as hegemonic elements of a racially structured society in South Africa that ultimately brought about the collapse of the socio-­economic systems of the black Homelands. Within this social and ecological collapse, there was a relationship between economic, ecological, political, social, and ideological factors. The aim of this project has been to analyse these interactions and to investigate the relationship between the institutionalised structures of modernisation experts and the frequently divergent interpretations of various stakeholders. The study was part of the interdisciplinary DFG -funded research project ‘Resilience, Collapse and Reorganisation in Social-­Ecological-­Systems of East- and South Africa’s Savannahs’ (RCR ).

0.1 Research Question Concepts of planned modernisation are always found in a context of divergent social, ideological, ecological, and economic factors. The history of South Africa from 1948 to 1994 can also be seen as the history of a major society-­spanning project; an attempt to build a ‘modern’ state on the basis of racial segregation. A radical policy of segregation in South Africa, known by the name Apartheid, existed in the country from the late 1930s. This programme was incorporated into policy in practice from 1948 after the election victory of the Afrikaner nationalists 1 and officially ended in 1994 with the election of the African National Congress (ANC ) to the party of government with Nelson Mandela as president. In the late 1950s, one of the core elements of Apartheid policy was implemented: territorial racial segregation. Already existing Native Reserves were upgraded to so-­called Homelands. The Apartheid government tried to create the white national state it desired using territorial separation. These areas, pejoratively known as Bantustans by their black population, were declared ‘national states’ and portrayed as a South African form of decolonisation.2 1 Christoph Marx, “Zwangsumsiedlungen in Südafrika während der Apartheid”. In: Isabel Heinemann, Patrick Wagner (eds.), “Wissenschaft – Planung – Vertreibung: Neuordnungskonzepte und Umsiedlungspolitik im 20. Jahrhundert” (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2006), 173 – 195: 173, 174. 2 Ibidem.

Research Question  |

This volume deals with the major societal project of Apartheid and, within this framework, the concept of spatial segregation and large-­scale environmental protection measures. The so-­called Betterment Schemes, which were planned and implemented by the South African government from 1940 to 1970, played an important role both in the above settlement and in environmental policy. Among the black population, they were one of the most hated instruments of social control used by the Apartheid regime. Betterment planning, which was intended to halt the ecological decline of the Bantustans through increased control of and intervention in African agriculture, was also an example of the interplay of environmental factors, political and economic interests, and ideology. Betterment planning was the official reason for the forced relocation of 3.5 million people in South Africa in total. The government made efforts as early as the 1930s to combat soil erosion and improve agricultural production in the black Reserves. These plans reached a high point with the 1955 report from the Commission for Socio-­Economic Development of the Bantu Areas within the Union of South Africa (Tomlinson Commission).3 They involved the reorganisation of rural land into residential areas, areas suitable for development, and pastures. The result was the relocation of many families into centralised, village-­ like areas, as well as rural urbanisation resulting from displacement. With this reorganisation came agricultural intervention. This, however, did not initially increase productivity.4 The Betterment programmes can be roughly divided into three phases: ‘stabilisation’, ‘reclamation’ and ‘rehabilitation’. However, these three phases cannot be clearly distinguished from one another. Betterment had several components. First were the environmental components, which I will outline briefly below. Stabilisation was defined generally as measures to protect the soil and prevent further damage to the environment. Reclamation represented the necessary steps to regenerate resources that had already been damaged. Rehabilitation referred to the relocation of the part of the population that could not have an independent agricultural existence. These ‘surplus people’ were to be involved in the improvement of the economy, as for example, in urban development. These phases were fluid, however; it is still disputed, for example, whether the focus of the measures taken in the 1950s was stabilisation or reclamation.5 3 Union of South Africa, “Summary of the Report of the Commission for the Socio-­Economic Development of the Bantu Areas within the Union of South Africa”. (Report of the Tomlinson Commission) U. G. 61/1955. (Pretoria: Government Printer: 1955). 4 Chris de Wet (ed.), “Moving Together, Drifting Apart. Betterment Planning and Villagisation in a South African Homeland”. ( Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press 1995), 39. 5 Ibidem, 222, 223, 224.

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The crucial component of Betterment was, in my view, the implementation of a complete spatially-­based settlement policy based on ethnic categorisation. This categorisation made the measures, which were actually rather unspectacular, politically and economically relevant. The political disenfranchisement of the majority of the population was fixed in legislation by the racist Land Act as early as 1913, which resulted in practice in an increase in the displacement of black share-­croppers and small-­scale farmers from entire regions. The innovation was that entire regions were granted to whites by law, with 93 per cent of South Africa appropriated by the white minority.6 The remaining Reserves were held by blacks. Given this near-­unsustainable division of land, the question arises of how the regime was able to survive for more than forty years. Africans were virtually denied land ownership; land that they had already acquired was now ‘reacquired’ by white farmers. Ultimately, this Land Act helped commercialise white agriculture by eliminating black competitors.7 In practice, environmental problems and inefficient agricultural production in the Homelands were inevitable; nonetheless, the Tomlinson Commission declared that the blacks were solely responsible for this, and the difficulties were presented as their sociological and psychological problems.8 Betterment helped the implementation of the settlement schemes designed by the Apartheid government, which guaranteed control over the African population and their livestock. The idea that inefficient management and communal administration and management of black farms were the cause of soil erosion, low agricultural production, and environmental problems in the former Homelands is still being discussed today. The principle of communal farming is often blamed for environmental problems. Based on Garrett Hardin’s essay ‘The Tragedy of the Commons’, various researchers, including Vincent Kakembo as well as other RCR group project members, have endorsed changing from communal to commercial farming.9 But if 6 Union of South Africa, Department of Native Affairs, “Report of the Natives Land Commission Vol. 1”. U. G.19-16. (Cape Town: Cape Times Limited, Government Printers, 1916), National Archives of South Africa (NASA ), National Archives Repository (public records of central government since 1910) (SAB ), Secretary of Justice (1899 – 1966) (JUS ) 423 1/152/16, 200. 7 Marx, Wissenschaft, 175. 8 De Wet, Moving Together, 54. 9 Vincent Kakembo, “Land Degradation in Relation to Land Tenure in Peddie District, Eastern Cape”. International Conference of Land Tenure in the Developing World with a Focus on South Africa, Cape Town, 27 – 29 January 1998 (Cape Town: gtz, FILSA , 1998), 452 – 458, accessed 20. 10. 2016. E. Kotzé, A. Sandhage-­Hofmann, J.-A. Meinel, C. C. du Preez, W. Amelung, “Rangeland Management Impacts on the Properties of Clayey Soils Along Grazing Gradients in the Semi-­Arid Grassland Biome of South Africa”. Journal of Arid Environments 97 (2013), 220 – 229.

Research Question  |

historical conditions are taken into consideration, this idea seems less certain; part of this work will investigate such questions. Using a wide range of archival material and botanic and agricultural studies, as for example those of Timm Hoffmann, I will show that communal tenure systems are not directly comparable to commercial ones and can even be more viable in areas with high ecological uncertainty.10 Generally, the condemnation of African farming was a typical argument in the Apartheid ideology and an early indication of its strength: A hegemonic discourse, a strong political narrative, and a pseudo-­scientific foundation. To analyse this socio-­ecological process, we must take into consideration the individual actors’ interests and the initial situation. The reason for the development of the Betterment Schemes is commonly accepted as lying in soil erosion and a looming ecological collapse in the Homelands, as mentioned. This reasoning corresponds to the scientific discourse that began in the 20th century, according to which soil erosion was a serious threat. However, the measures that followed this must be seen in the context of government policy between blacks and whites – soil protection in a racially structured society.11 A functional transformation of the Bantustans and therefore a change in settlement planning and Betterment can be identified from the 1960s. A structural change in the South African economy, the mechanisation of agriculture, and a shift to capitalist modes of production in industry and mining made the country’s mass of cheap labour superfluous. A further split within the black African population then took place. Because of a lack of skilled workers, the government invested in training a portion of the Homeland population. The aim was to create a black middle class in the hope that it would work in the interests of the Apartheid regime. The remaining ‘surplus people’, then including the unemployed, the elderly and the sick, were relocated to the Bantustans, which now constituted a sort of dumping ground. The relocation of ‘surplus people’ made resettlements a mass phenomenon.12 However, it performed a function directly linked to the ecological problems. The Betterment Schemes had not stopped the erosion of the soil. The Bantustans all suffered from overpopulation, overgrazing and ecological destruction. This destruction resulted in more and more people flocking to the cities; in the capital-­intensive industry, they were, however, no longer needed. As 10 M. Timm Hoffman, Simon Todd, “A National Review of Land Degradation in South Africa: The Influence of Biophysical and Socio-­Economic Factors”. Journal of Southern African Studies 26 (4) (2000), 743 – 758. 11 Peter Delius, Stefan Schirmer, “Soil Conservation in a Racially Ordered Society: South Africa 1930 – 1970”. Journal of Southern African Studies 26 (4) (2000). 12 Marx, Wissenschaft, 177, 178.

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14

| Introduction

a result forced displacement from the cities increased.13 At the same time, large rural townships such as Botshabelo emerged because of forced relocation. When considering the completely unrealistic goals of the Apartheid regime regarding territorial and demographic policy, the question arises of how the system was able to survive for over 40 years. It was an authoritarian regime, with associated repressive institutions. Nevertheless, using repression and violence alone, it would be a virtual impossibility for an absolute minority to rule over 87 per cent of the population and relocate these people into 13 per cent of the total land area. Strong political narratives and ideologies were necessary to maintain power and hegemony. A major goal of this study is to elaborate on these and describe them in more detail. The first thing to point out is that the economy, politics, and ideology in South Africa existed in a far-­reaching ideological context that reflected above all two themes; the territorial segregation of the ‘races’; and the problematic distribution of land and bureaucratic/technocratic planning that intervened in the black population to preserve the economic and political superiority of the white minority. When examining the planning and implementation of Betterment, forced relocation, and ethnic division, it becomes apparent that the policies of the governing party (the National Party), while having the appearance of a clear system, in practice were formed arbitrarily and unpredictably. Actions were frequently either taken as a single step, or a long time passed between two phases.14 The reason for programmes not being centrally coordinated was that the South African state was organised in a very bureaucratic and scattered way. Goals and the means to achieve them often did not match up, which often resulted in unrealistic policies and aimless activity. In this political, ecological and economic context, the Betterment Schemes were unsuitable for solving the real problems of agriculture or to prevent an ecological collapse and create viable agriculture programmes.15 There was a complex of politics, ideology, and ecology within the socio-­ecological system of the Homelands. The term Socio-­Ecological System (SES ) refers generally to systems that exist between humans and nature. In such systems, the centre of this abstractly defined complex is the connection between social relationships and conditions in nature. SES is mostly seen from the viewpoint of managing this system.16 It is quite 13 Ibidem, 179, 180, 181. 14 Laurine Platzky, Cherryl Walker, “The Surplus People. Forced Removals in South Africa”. ( Johannesburg: Ravan Press, 1989), 132. 15 De Wet, Moving Together, 67. 16 For example: Egon Becker, “Socio-­Ecological Systems as Epistemic Objects”. Marion Glaser, Gesche Krause, Beate Ratter, Martin Welp (eds.), “Human-­Nature Interactions in the Anthropocene: Potentials of Social-­Ecological Systems Analysis”. (London: Routledge,

Theory and Methods  |

possible to see the South African Homelands as Ecological Systems. Likewise, the ecological collapse that resulted can be traced back to the relationship between social and ecological conditions. But the extent to which the Betterment Schemes helped regulate this system and increase its resilience is questionable. Rather, it seems that justification was being sought for displacement and forced relocation on a large scale. One indication of this is the lack of meaningful attempts to improve environmental conditions. If looking at the scientific arguments for Apartheid, the question arises as to how publications that found almost no acceptance internationally could be used to form a system in which ecological circumstances became the conveyor belt for measures such as Betterment. It is this set of scientific, ideological and environmental factors that will be used for interpreting the events which are the subject of this study.

0.2 Theory and Methods For an analysis of this topic, several perspectives are required. The period that is the focus of this study is the 1960s and 1970s. Assuming that the actual major political and social project was the structuring of the population according to the Apartheid regime’s ideology, an overview of the segregation era is needed, as well as of the early phases of Apartheid. As well, the ideological and political foundations of the later Homeland policy of the South African government will be presented. Following a discussion of the basis of Bantustan policy in the 20th century, the ecological conditions of the Betterment Schemes will be examined. As mentioned in the previous section, it has been disputed whether this was in fact intended to prevent an ecological collapse caused by the failures of the black population, or was simply to enable more efficient use of the Bantustans as a reservoir of cheap labour. The question of whether the former is convincing can be determined by geological investigations. For this, the state of scientific research at the beginning of the 20th century must be taken into account. The fear of soil erosion and its ecological consequences was widespread in South Africa at this time, primarily because of various American publications on the topic.17 It thus had to be established whether or to what degree soil degradation had occurred. It stands to reason that it was not the black population’s inability at fault. Rather, 2012), 37 – 59. B. H. Walker, L. H. Gunderson, A. P. Kinzig, C. Folke, S. R. Carpenter, and L. Schultz, “A Handful of Heuristics and Some Propositions for Understanding Resilience in Social-­Ecological Systems”. Ecology and Society 11 (13) (2006). http://www.ecologyandsociety.org/vol11/iss1/art13/, accessed 20. 10. 2016. 17 Delius, Schirmer, Soil Conservation, 719.

15

16

| Introduction

it seems likely that forced overpopulation, severe repression, and difficult economic and social relations in the Reserves were responsible. These factors were only reinforced later in the Apartheid regime’s reign. To clarify the above two questions and establish the intentions behind the Betterment Schemes, why they were needed and the consequences of individual measures, sources documenting the planning and implementation of the Schemes will examined. The analysis of the Betterment planning of the 1960s and 1970s will be undertaken in several steps. First, the changes in Homeland policy in this period will be illustrated in a discussion of the ecological, economic and political factors. Then the behaviour of the individual players will be considered, with the government the primary subject of this investigation. The fact that its policies, while apparently systematic, were actually based on poorly coordinated activities can be worked out from various records and reports.18 Different groups can be identified within the black population: First, the relocated people themselves, who reacted with indignation and occasionally resistance and revolts. And then, the local governments, which actively took part in the Betterment programmes and played an important role in the supposedly independent Homelands. While these considerations relate to South Africa as a whole, here the example of a single region will be taken: the Thaba Nchu District in today’s Free State. Here the process of so-­called displaced urbanisation is significant, urbanisation as it emerged in rural townships due to expulsions and racial segregation. In this context, it is interesting that the townships in Thaba Nchu did not develop by chance. Colin Murray and other authors have written about the township of Bothabelo, but they did not use the report of the ‘Bloemfontein 85’ conference or various reports from the National Archives of South Africa, reports that have provided information about how detailed the planning of the Onverwacht/Botshabelo township actually was.19 In conclusion, these various aspects will be considered in relation to the social and ecological collapse that occurred in the Homelands. For this, various theories about space, such as those of Henri Lefebvre, Michel Foucault, and Edward Soja, have been used to examine the individual detailed mechanisms of how the power and hegemony of the Apartheid regime was retained by planning of space and ethnic categorisation. As well, their applicability to the theory of SES has been weighed. 18 For example: Ivan Evans, “Bureaucracy and Race: Native Administration in South Africa”. (Berkeley, CA : University of California Press, 1997). 19 Correspondence between Sekretaris van Samewerking en Ontwikkeling, Kaapstad and Prof Fourie, Bloemfontein, Opvolging van Konferensis: Bloemfontein 1985, 8. 6. 1979, 21. 8. 1979, NASA , SAB , Department of Co-­operation and Development (1973 – 1986) (SON ) 1606 D12/2/4/2/4/3 vol. 2, 187, 188, 217, 218.

Sources  |

To examine the third type of power in South Africa, environmental power, it had to be assessed whether SES can be applied to this case study. As has been mentioned by others, this is problematic because of the current unavailability of sources. To consider the Bantustans as an SES seems quite reasonable. It is also undeniable that the change in environmental conditions can be traced back to human interventions. Social ecology, the ‘science of social relations to nature’, offers clues here. This relatively new field, which deals with the mutual relations between nature and society, arose from a multitude of disciplines and has developed into an integrated field of environmental research.20 However, the concept of SES and its management often assumes that it is primarily intended to control resilience. But it is questionable whether this was the objective of Betterment planning. The suspicion is that to a considerable extent protecting the soil and improving agriculture provided a pretext for protecting the interests of the Apartheid regime, namely, the creation of a ‘white’ national state. This assumption must be examined by weighing the factors listed above, above all at an empirical level. Geological studies show us the extent the Betterment Schemes were successful or meaningful from an ecological and agricultural point of view. Parameters for this are also the population density and ethnic composition of South Africa’s population. Through the study, I often change between macro and micro levels. On one hand, this method reflects the wide range of sources that had to be analysed and interpreted. But more importantly, it offers the possibility of looking at social, economic and ecological interconnections at a national as well as a local level. There are two appendices. Appendix 1 consists of diverse population statistics taken from the digitalised censuses. Appendix 2 contains various maps.21 Maps or tables used only once are provided in the text; those that are used more often are found in the appendices.

0.3 Sources Because of the nature of interdisciplinary work, with its different methodologies, to reach any conclusions it is necessary to evaluate sources of various types. For documenting the aims of the South African government, its official publications 20 Egon Becker, Thomas Jahn (ed.), “Soziale Ökologie. Grundzüge einer Wissenschaft von den gesellschaftlichen Naturverhältnissen”. (Frankfurt/Main, New York: Campus, 2006). 21 The appendices are documented in the Social Science Open Access Repository (SSOAR ): Katharina Loeber, “Racism and Human Ecology: White Supremacy in Twentieth-­Century South Africa – Appendix” (2017): http://nbn-­resolving.de/urn:nbn:de:0168-ssoar-50743-9, accessed 8. 3. 2017.

17

18

| Introduction

were above all needed. Mention should be made here of the Tomlinson Report and the documents of the various commissions and committees that dealt with the racial question and the structuring of the Homelands, particularly the Bantu Affairs Commission. However, there are also various individual publications, as for example, those of the South African Department of Information, ‘The Progress of the Bantu Peoples towards Nationhood’. While these publications are not complete, they are available in great numbers and so it is possible to gain a relatively complete picture of the government’s interests. The main focus here has been documents from the National Archives of South Africa in Pretoria, Bloemfontein and Cape Town. Files from the Secretary of Native Affairs and the Department of Agriculture contain various clues about how the Apartheid regime’s Homeland policy was implemented. Correspondence should also be mentioned here, such as commission reports, etc. The available material is quite diverse and patchy in many places. This problem is due in a large part to the lack of structure in South African archives. Gathering information often proved difficult because the sources were unsorted or not in the location indicated. In this regard, it is worth mentioning that the National Archives and Records Service was completely restructured in 1996 after the African National Congress took over. Many files from the Cape region were transferred to the regional archive in Cape Town, where there is quite a lot of information on segregation policy and Betterment from 1910 to 1970. Nearly all of the material from the former Orange Free State was apparently brought to the central archive in Pretoria. This is where a large amount of previously unpublished material is held that is particularly relevant for the case study in question, the Thaba Nchu District until its incorporation into the former Republic of Bophuthatswana, especially about the planning of the township Botshabelo. Another significant problem was the use of racial terms in archival material. In the Apartheid system there were four racial categories. Three of them remained in force during the 20th century: Europeans and whites, terms that were used more-­or-­less interchangeably; Coloureds; and Asians. Afrikaaner, Afrikaner and Africander are terms used for whites who are Boers. The indigenous people were defined as Natives during both the colonial and segregation era. From the 1950s on, they were called Bantus. In the 1980s, the designation was Blacks. The definitions of the indigenous population changed over the years, reflecting the political development from the colonial era to the South African Union and Apartheid state. The use of language reflects changing Apartheid policies, with a phase of tribalisation and growing black consciousness. I will discuss this process of linguistic shift in detail in chapter 2.1.

Sources  |

Another problem was choosing the terms to use in my own text. In all cases, the terms used in sources are marked as such. In fact, ‘Black’ and ‘African’ are contested terms. Their usage has attracted much academic debate. Issues of terminology are important as they produce real consequences for the lives of those using and/ or who are subsumed within a particular definition.22 Individuals have the right to choose how they wish to be identified. Some Pan-­African scholars consider ‘black African’ a racist and pejorative colonial term due to the fact that there is no trans-­historical African identity. Therefore, in Africa’s ancient history the term ‘African’ as an identity would have had no meaning; people defined themselves as members of kingdoms, religions and ethnic groups.23 In the case of South Africa, even the terminology of ethnic groups is problematic. I will show in chapter 2.2 that Apartheid theorists used ethnic categories often invented by whites to disguise racism and to distort the proportions of the population. According to Deborah Posel, after decades of Apartheid’s racial reasoning, the idea that South African society comprises four distinct races – Whites, Coloureds, Indians and Africans – has become a habit of thought and experience, a facet of popular ‘common sense’ still widely evident.24 After discussions with various scholars, I decided to follow scholars like Colin Murray and William Beinart, who use the term Africans as well as the term Blacks. I will use these terms to deal with racial segregation and in my arguments on a macro level. When emphasising the history and culture of black South Africans, I prefer the term indigenous people or the name of the respective ethnic or religious group. In chapter four I will often deal with conflicts between the Tswana and the South Sotho people on a micro level; naturally I will name the ethnic groups at that point. One needed source proved difficult to obtain. Scientific documentation of soil erosion and agriculture in the Homelands is important for the scientific foundation of the assumptions listed above. While there are some government publications available – South Africa has a long history of research into soil degradation and there are various types of publications on the subject as well as a long series of public research projects – it must be kept in mind that most of these were influenced by the interests of the Apartheid regime. There are two 22 Uvanney Maylor, “What Is the Meaning of ‘Black’? Researching ‘Black’ Respondents”. Ethnic and Racial Studies 32, 2 (2009) 369 – 387: 369. 23 ’Alik Shahadah, “The African Race. Defining African Identity Today”. African Holocaust 12 (2009), , accessed 20. 10. 2016. 24 Deborah Posel, “What’s in a name? Racial Categorisations under Apartheid and Their Afterlife”. Michigan State University Libraries (2001), 50 – 74: 55, http://digital.lib.mnu/projects/ africanjournals/transformation/tran047/tran047005.pdf, accessed 20. 10. 2016.

19

20

| Introduction

problems connected to this: firstly, research activities were often local in nature and the Homelands were the focus of little attention; secondly, non-­agronomic aspects of soil degradation were ignored.25 Agronomic studies that are objective are difficult to find. One possibility is to use the data that has been collected within the partial project A1 of the DFG -RCR project, by the research group 1501. However, then one must take into account that the research has been carried out on the current state of the soil in the selected region and thus, the results only allow speculations to be drawn about the past. This is possible to a limited degree using geoscientific and chemical methods. A helpful study was published in 2003 by the Centre of Development Support (СDS ). Also very useful was the method of repeat photography used by the plant conservation unit in Cape Town. Repeat photography, the production of an exact duplicate of a landscape photograph at a later point in time, allows one to observe changes in vegetation over a longer period. A similar source for this kind of visualisation is offered by the area photography carried out by the South African organisation ‘National Geo-­Spatial Information’ (NGI ) from the years 1950 to 1996. In 2013, most of the South African census from 1960 to 2011 were digitised. This made it possible to examine the statistical methods used in South Africa during the Apartheid era and calculate the distortion of population numbers through ethnic categorisation. This information has been graphically represented and discussed below.

0.4 State of Research Today, there are many publications on the Apartheid regime. These include numerous and various analyses of the relationships in southern Africa between environmental conditions and the course of historical events. Of particular note is the work of Chris de Wet and William Beinart. Already in 1984, Beinart explicitly pointed out the connection between soil erosion, nature conservation, and ideas of progress in southern Africa between 1900 and 1960.26 Laurine Platzky together with Cheryl Walker, and Elaine Unterhalter have provided good overviews of forced relocation in the 20th century. Unterhalter primarily describes the timing of forced removal, its political backgrounds and how forced evictions were undertaken. She devotes several chapters to the various types of forced relocation 25 Hoffman, Todd, National Review of Land Degradation, 745. 26 William Beinart, “Soil Erosion, Conservationism and Ideas about Development: A Southern African Exploration 1900 – 1960”. Journal of Southern African Studies, 11, 1 (1984), 52 – 83.

State of Research  |

in the towns and in the countryside.27 Platzky and Walker’s emphasis is more on the experiences and living conditions of resettled people, using examples from different regions.28 Platzky and Walker participated in the Surplus People Project, a project that emerged in the 1980s aimed at resisting forced relocation and improving the living conditions of small-­scale farmers. On the basis of the Homeland policy described above, Fred Hendricks argues that the Betterment Schemes were not motivated by environmental protection or soil conservation. In his view, the Homelands were created solely for the purpose of dividing the land unfairly and providing cheap labour.29 A few more recent theories have arisen based on various ecological factors, political and social interests, as well as ideology. For example, in his 1997 volume on Homeland politics in South Africa, Albrecht Isert devotes much of his discussion to ideology, together with political and economic questions. He also deals with the entire period of Grand Apartheid from 1950 to 1990.30 Another interesting work – which, however, deals with a different political context – is the 2007 monograph by William Beinart and Lotte Hughes, “Environment and Empire”. The authors’ thesis is that imperialism is generally inseparable from the history of global changes in environmental conditions. However, they do not deal with one geographical area, instead using a number of different case studies.31 Also of note are Peder Anker’s “Imperial Ecology and Colonial Knowledges”, Volume 2 of the series “The Rise and Fall of Modern Empires”.32 The work “Black Mountain” by Colin Murray is notable with regard to the district of Thaba Nchu, as well as the as yet unpublished dissertation by Christiane Naumann dealing with the RCR ’s ethnological sub-­project. In connection with ecological aspects, it should be noted that there was a real threat of collapse, which in fact later did occur due to soil fertilisation. According to Chris de Wet, the aim of measures before 1945 was to prevent excessive soil deterioration.33 Nevertheless, research has shown that the infrastructure interventions led to better political control of the Bantustans. Because of the political and 27 Elaine Unterhalter, “Forced Removals. The Division, Segregation and Control of the People of South Africa”. (London: International Defence and Aid Fund for Southern Africa, 1987). 28 Platzky, Walker: The Surplus People. 29 Fred T. Hendricks, “The Pillars of Apartheid: Land Tenure, Rural Planning and the Chieftaincy”. (Uppsala: Academiae Upsaliensis, 1990), 187. 30 Albrecht Isert, “Die Homeland-­Politik in Südafrika“. (Frankfurt/Main: Lang, 1997). 31 William Beinart, Lotte Hughes, “Environment and Empire”. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). 32 Peder Anker, “Imperial Ecology: Environmental Order in the British Empire”. 1895 – 1945 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2001). Saul Dubow (ed.), “The Rise and Fall of Modern Empires. Vol. II : Colonial Knowledges”. (Fanham: Ashgate, 2013). 33 De Wet, Moving together, 54.

21

22

| Introduction

social focus of earlier research, an important type of source, official documents, was already evaluated in the 1980s. For the current study, such documents were also examined, but a large amount of the groundwork had already been laid by earlier researchers. Geological and agronomic information came in large part from such documents. However, references to purely scientific research are rarely found, and the assertions found therein are generally not supported by such. Few details are provided on ecological matters. Thus this has rarely been a focus of this study; it is an aspect that still needs research. Although Colin Murray has written an excellent historical account of the political economy of the Thaba Nchu area, his work addresses social-­ecological aspects only marginally. Regarding his research on the phenomenon of displaced urbanisation, he obviously did not have access to the planning reports of Botshabelo of the late 1980s that I was able to use.34 In contrast, the environmental history of Kuruman, for example, has already been elaborated in detail by Nancy Jacobs.35 Useful here is recent geographical and geochemical research that has also taken historical factors into account, as for example the study by Monica Giannecchini, Wayne Twine and Colleen Vogel, as well as the studies of the various RCR project groups.36 An important aim of the RCR project was to investigate the relationships between social, economic and ecological factors, focussing on two research sites in Kenya (Lake Naivasha and Lake Baringo) and two in South Africa (Kuruman and Thaba Nchu). I took part in the first phase of the RCR project (2010 – 2013). The project was divided into nine sub-­projects, each having an individual thematic focus. The historical project C1 was my area, whereby I chose South Africa as my overall research region, using the developments in one district as a case study. Because little was known about human–environment relationships in the Thaba Nchu area, I chose to examine exclusively this district. The general aim was an analysis of the interconnection between social and environmental processes during Apartheid South Africa using a wide range of smaller case studies.

34 Colin Murray, “Black Mountain: Land, Class, and Power in the Eastern Orange Free State, 1880s to 1980s”. (Washington, DC : Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992). 35 Nancy Jacobs, “Environment, Power, and Injustice: A South African History”. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). 36 See, for example: Monica Giannecchini, Wayne Twine, Coleen Vogel, “Land-­Cover Change and Human-­Environment Interactions in a Rural Cultural Landscape in South Africa”. The Geographical Journal 173 (1) (2007), 26 – 42. M. Timm Hoffman, M. E. Meadows, “The Nature, Extent and Causes of Land Degradation in South Africa: Legacy of the Past, Lessons for the Future?”, Area 34 (4) (2002), 428 – 437.

23

1. The Implementation of Apartheid, Conservationism, and the Beginning of Betterment Planning

1.0 Introduction The official date marking the ‘New Model State’ of South Africa is 26 May 1948. This is the date the United National Parties won parliamentary elections, a coalition of conservative and right-­wing parties. Nonetheless, it makes sense to look at the years of the South African Union (1910 – 1948) as well, since important steps in building a ‘white nation’ with strict racial control and the segregation of the black population were taken in this era. Systematic forced resettlement did not take place during these so-­called segregation years, but the politics, legislation, and ideology of a racially ordered society began to be implemented. To understand the origins of Apartheid, the following will examine the interaction between scientific investigation, public intervention and ideology in early post-­colonial South Africa. In the early 20th century, research into land degradation, especially colonial ideas about the destruction of natural resources, intensified in South Africa. The major concern was the impact of settler agriculture on fragile environments.37 From the 1930s, numerous publications and official investigations demonstrated the interest of the South African government in this issue.38 The state wanted to play a leading role in combating this danger and so intervened in various ways. The so-­called Betterment Schemes were officially prompted by the ecological crises in the Native Reserves. The South African government blamed the ecological problems on overstocking, although the people living there perceived the main problem to be shortage of land. In general, land degradation is a product of the interplay between different ecological and socio-­economic factors.39 In South Africa after 1948, ecological crises and schemes to combat soil erosion went hand in hand with the radical restructuring of the society based on the system known as Grand Apartheid. Betterment Schemes were developed and implemented under the pressure of building up a racial ordered state, with white Boers aiming at strict racial control and the segregation of the black population. As a result, 3.5 million people were forcibly resettled. This chapter will examine the political, ideological, economic, 37 Delius, Schirmer, Soil Conservation, 720. 38 Hoffman, Todd, National Review of Land Degradation, 743, 744. 39 Kakembo, Land Degradation in Peddie District, 474.

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|  Apartheid, Conservationism, and the Beginning of Betterment Planning

and ecological factors that influenced official investigations and interventions regarding the problem of land degradation, as well as the interrelationship between this issue and the beginning of forced resettlement of blacks into so-­called Native Areas. It examines how racist attitudes and disparities in the political and economic status of black and white people were important factors in how soil conservation strategies were formed. These influenced the implementation of a system of segregation and eviction, as well as the appropriation of former indigenous land. The first part of the chapter will describe the political situation when the Union of South Africa gained independence in 1910, including the government’s segregation policy, especially the Natives Land Act of 1913. This will be followed by a description of the political radicalisation of segregation in the 1940s. The second part of the chapter will deal with the economic background and the so-­ called poor white problem, comparing various scholarly discourses and the state’s interventions in pursuit of soil conservation.

1.1 The Union of South Africa: Legislation, Administration, and the Beginning of Spatial Segregation 1.1.1 The Early Union and the Natives Land Act 1913

The Union of South Africa gained independence from British rule in 1910.40 The South African (Anglo–Boer) War (1899 – 1902) had shown that the economic and strategic interests of the United Kingdom (UK ) would be better protected by collaboration than by military force, and thus the UK formally decolonised the region.41 The conditions under which the four former colonies Cape Colony, Natal, Transvaal, and Orange River Colony (ORC ) joined together involved various conflicts of regional and racial interests, as well as ideologies. In the end, the South Africa Act united the territories occupied by white people under a government that represented the two white communities.42 Although the constitution of 1910 united the country under a single government, it did not make South Africa an independent sovereign state in all respects. Above all, the Union 40 Harvey M. Feinberg, André Horn, “South African Territorial Segregation: New Data on African Farm Purchases, 1913 – 1936”. The Journal of African History 50 (1) (2009), 41 – 60: 41. 41 J. D. Hargreaves, “Decolonization in Africa”. (London, New York: Longman, 1988), 8. 42 Leonard Thompson, “The Compromise of the Union”. Monica Wilson, Leonard Monteath Thompson, “The Oxford History of South Africa. Vol II . 1870 – 1966”. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971), 325 – 364: 350, 363.

The Union of South Africa  |

was still bound by the decisions of the British king and had to act on the advice of his British ministers of state regarding questions on war and peace. Whites dominated the government and controlled political and economic decision-­making power. The majority of the population, most of them indigenous Africans, had virtually no voice in government. After discussions with South African leaders, the British imperial government appointed Louis Botha as prime minister with no elections held. The Transvaal political leader, a successful farmer and Anglo–Boer War general, had organised a new political party, Het Volk, in 1904. Botha and Jan Christian Smuts, a former colonial cabinet minister, believed that the best policy for South Africa was one of ‘unity and cooperation’, to bring about harmony, good relations, and an end to bitterness between the two white societies – English-­ speakers and Afrikaners.43 General Louis Botha’s government was dedicated to conciliation between Briton and Boer, and contained almost as many British as Dutch names. Botha chose his government carefully from all provinces. It was ironic that during elections, it was difficult to distinguish between the policies of the South African and the Unionist parties. Both stressed the idea of a single white South African nation and professed a non-­doctrinaire Native policy; neither supported special protection for Afrikaners.44 For Africans, the most important questions were how to regain land lost as a result of Dutch and British colonisation, and how to increase their power in political and economic terms. One of the overriding objectives of British Liberals, according to historian Ronald Hyam, was the improvement of the position of Africans. Liberals saw a white self-­ government as the most effective way to achieve that aim. Black Africans would benefit from reconciliation with whites and their fears would be reduced.45 On the other side, the white government grappled with the so-­called Native Question. A clear intention of white South Africans was to dispense with earlier inhabitants of the region. The new state was based on a compromise between the agrarian, mining, and industrial interests of the various groups in the white population.46 The idea that South Africa was a white man’s country had taken root between the 1870s and 1913. According to the South African historian Hermann Giliomee, the society that emerged from this position was unique, both in the world of 43 Harvey M. Feinberg, “The 1913 Natives Land Act in South Africa: Politics, Race, and Segregation in the Early 20th Century”. The International Journal of African Historical Studies 26 (1) (1993):65 – 109: 70, 71. 44 T. R. H. Davenport, “South Africa: A Modern History”. 4th ed., Cambridge Commonwealth Series (London: Macmillan, 1991), 231. 45 Ronald Hyam, “African Interests and the South African Act, 1908 – 1910”. The Historical Journal, 13 (1) (1970), 85 – 105: 87. 46 Hargreaves, Decolonization, 9.

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|  Apartheid, Conservationism, and the Beginning of Betterment Planning

European colonisation as well as in the phase of post-­colonialism. South Africa was exceptional in two ways. First, whites had settled in large numbers on land they controlled, but at the same time, they were dependent on black labourers or sharecroppers. Second, the white racial minority was divided between Dutch and English. Until gaining independence from the United Kingdom, they suspended their political rivalry to defend white superiority itself.47 The political aim of segregation emanated from different sources in the aftermath of the Anglo–Boer war. Especially in urban areas, there was competition over jobs. Representatives of the white working class resisted competing with blacks, who worked for lower wages. Blacks, it was argued, should live in special areas; political control and the aim of racial segregation were translated into the seizure of land occupied by the African population.48 This was achieved in two stages. The first involved the establishment and demarcation of so-­called Native Areas; the second was the relocation of the African population to these designated areas. These two stages did not occur at the same time.49 The process of excluding black people from ‘white’ territories received an impetus when Africans acquired twenty-­three farms in the Transvaal region in 1915. At that time less than one per cent of the land was owned by blacks, but such purchases became greatly symbolic.50 As a step toward resolving the Native Question, the South African white parliament passed the Natives Land Act no. 27 on 19 June 1913.51 In the historical discourse, this Land Act is often defined as the beginning of spatial racial segregation in South Africa. The innovation of the Land Act was not the removal and resettlement of the rural black population from whole regions; that had already happened during the European conquest of the entire sub-­continent. It was the fact that entire areas – 93 per cent of the land resources – were designated for whites only. Blacks had to move to so-­called scheduled areas. As a consequence, 70 per cent of the population had to move to 7 per cent of South Africa’s land area.52 According to William Beinart and Peter Delius, the Land Act did not anticipate the forced removals of the Apartheid era, but was rather an interim measure to maintain the status quo of land occupation.

47 Hermann Buhr Giliomee, “The Afrikaners: Biography of a People”. 2nd ed. (Charlottesville, VA , Cape Town, South Africa: University of Virginia Press; Tafelberg, 2009), 279. 48 Giliomee, The Afrikaners, 306. 49 A. J. Christopher, “Official Land Disposal Politics and European Settlement in Southern Africa 1860 – 1960”. Journal of Historical Geography, 9 (4) (1983), 369 – 383: 372. 50 Union of South Africa, “Report of the Natives Land Commission Vol. 2”. U. G.22-16. (Cape Town: Cape Times Limited, Government Printers, 1916), NASA , SAB , JUS 423 1/152/16, 4. 51 Feinberg, Horn, Farm Purchases, 41. 52 Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 173.

The Union of South Africa  |

It regulated the terms under which blacks could stay in certain places.53 Whites dominated the politics and economy of the country almost completely, and controlled more than 90 per cent of the land area, though only 20 per cent of the population was white. As Rick de Satgé summarises in his report on the ‘Land Divided’ Conference in March 2013, the passing of the 1913 Natives Land Act is widely recognised as a defining moment in the history of South Africa. The Act provided the legislative basis for subsequent efforts to divide the country into a white centre and a black periphery.54 The Natives Land Act’s most important provision was the prohibition of black Africans buying land in the areas reserved for whites. Boundaries of the Native Reserves were defined. In the 19th century, both a formal and an informal trusteeship system had emerged. The scheduled areas included those in the South African Republic and the Orange Free State governments, as well as land that had been purchased by black Africans in the Cape and Natal. Whites were prohibited from owning land in these places.55 The total area of the Reserves as adjusted by the Land Act was 7.3 per cent of the total area of the Union. The only Reserves in the Orange Free State, regions of high interest at a later time, were Witzieshoek, in the Harrysmith District, and Thaba Nchu and Seliba in the Thaba Nchu District. In the Transvaal, in addition to the Reserves, also farms owned by freeholders in Zoutpansberg, Waterberg, Middelburg, Lydenburg, Marico, Lichtenburg, Rustenburg, Wakkerstroom, Pretoria, and Potchefstroom were included as part of the schedule.56 In sum, studies have shown that the Act did not dislodge African people from land they owned in private tenure or customarily occupied. Harvey Feinberg and André Horn also showed in 2009 that the Land Act did not stop Africans from buying land in the Union. Using the so-­called exception clause, Africans bought farms and lots at an increasing rate between 1913 and 1936, especially in the Transvaal.57 Beinart and Delius argue that the Land Act was designed to change the conditions under which Africans occupied white-­ owned land and to extend the Reserve areas. It was believed that the process of 53 William Beinart, Peter Delius, “The Historical Context and Legacy of the Natives Land Act of 1913”. Journal of Southern African Studies 40 (4) (2014), 667 – 688: 668. 54 Rick de Satgé, “Synthesis Report. Land Divided: Land and South African Society in 2013 in Comparative Perspective”. (Cape Town: University of the Western Cape, Stellenbosch University, University of Cape Town, 2013), 4. 55 Feinberg, Horn, Farm Purchases, 42. 56 Union of South Africa, “Natives Land Act, Act No 27 of 1913”. (Pretoria: Gazette Extraordinary 380, Government Printer, 19th June 1913), 436 – 474: 441, http://www.sahistory.org.za/archive/natives-­land-­act-­act-­no-27-1913, accessed 26. 10. 2016. 57 Feinberg, Horn, Farm Purchases, 56, 58, 59.

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spatial segregation would happen within a few years, but the process of defining the scheduled areas effectively continued for 23 years, until the passing of the Native Trust and Land Act.58 Table 1.1: Area of the Native Reserves in the Union of South Africa 1916

Provinces Cape Natal Transvaal Orange Free State Union

Extent in Morgen 59 7,115,561 2,897,120 1,077,513 72,290

Percentage of Area of Provinces 8.47 22.83 3.22 0.48

11,164,484

7.13

Source: Union of South Africa, Report of the Natives Land Commission, Vol. 1 (UG 19-16) (Cape Town: Cape Times Limited Government Printer, 1916), NASA, SAB, JUS 423 1/152/16, 200.

According to the ‘Handbook on Race Relations in South Africa’, a publication of the South African Institute of Race Relations, from 1949 the unequal distribution of land between the races would not have had serious consequences for the Africans if the land of the Native Reserves had been fertile. But the Reserve areas were far less than fertile.60 The Natives Land Commission, also known as the Beaumont Commission, was created to investigate what additional land should be set aside for Africans.61 The Land Act of 1913 was only to be a ‘temporary measure designed to maintain the status quo’, as the Beaumont Commission reported in 1916.62 The areas recommended amounted to eight million morgens, and formed a schedule to the Native Affairs Administration Bill in 1917 in which ‘the further 58 Beinart, Delius, Legacy of the Natives Land Act, 668. 59 Until the 1970s, the morgen was the legal unit of land in three South African provinces: The Cape Province, the Orange Free State and the Transvaal. In November 2007, the South African Law Society published ‘Instructions for the Conversion of Areas to Metric’. The conversion factors of 1 morgen = 0.856 532 hectares and 1 acre = 0,404686 hectares could be used for conversion. Before 2007, it was necessary to use the so-­called Blue Book, a key item of considerable standing in 19th-­century colonial administration. South African Law Society: Instructions for the Conversion of Areas to Metric, 2007. http://www.lawsoc.co.za/ webs/surveyorgeneral/2007_11_area_conversion.doc, accessed 20. 10. 2016. 60 Edward Roux, “Land and Agriculture in the Native Reserves”. Ellen Hellmann (ed.), “Handbook on Race Relations in South Africa”. (Cape Town, London, New York: Oxford University Press, 1949), 173. 61 Feinberg, Horn, Farm Purchases, 42. 62 Union of South Africa, “Report of the Natives Land Commission, Minute addressed to the Minister of Native Affairs by the Honourable Sir W. H. Beaumont”. U. G. 25-16. (Cape Town: Cape Times Limited, Government Printers, 1916), NASA , SAB , JUS 423 1/152/16, 3.

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land legislation promise from 1913 was embodied’.63 The Native Areas defined 1913 were not large, contiguous areas, nor were the additional areas found by the Beaumont Commission. Within them, both larger areas and small scattered ones were intermingled with land owned by European settlers. But the Commission was unable to solve this conflict or to define enough space for the Reserves.64 Another important part of the Act involved special provisions for the Orange Free State. These met what some Free Staters perceived as their special problem – squatting or share-­cropping Africans. Africans were already prohibited from purchasing land in the Free State under earlier provincial laws; now the Act declared share-­cropping (‘sowing on shares’) illegal as well. Exemptions or benefits were written into the Act for the other provinces too. The most important had to do with the Cape Province. Because land ownership helped Africans meet the economic requirement for voting, the Act could not apply to those Africans whose right to vote might be affected by the law.65 In effect, the Land Act was unconstitutional in the Cape Province and could not be enforced there. And in the Transvaal, white farmers gained an important benefit. The Act removed the legal restriction that they could only have five African families on their land 66 As a consequence; white farmers had the possibility to cultivate their land with a high number of landless farm workers. The state was reacting to the fact that in many places black crofters cultivated the land, paying a part of the crop to the white owners. At the beginning of the 20th century such crofters had begun to buy farmland, for example, areas they had lost through the European conquest and war. But after 1913, Africans were only allowed to purchase land in the Reserves. Another important consequence was the elimination of productive black farming, which was seen as competition for white farmers.67

63 Roux, Land and Agriculture, 173: 173. 64 Giliomee, The Afrikaners, 311. 65 Before the Union, the Cape Colony had traditionally implemented a system of non-­racial franchise, whereby qualifications for suffrage were applied equally to all males, regardless of race. During the Union negotiations, the Cape Prime Minister, John X. Merriman, fought unsuccessfully to extend this multi-­racial franchise system to the rest of South Africa. This failed, because it was strongly opposed by the other constituent states, which were determined to entrench white rule. After the Union, the Cape Province was permitted to keep a restricted version of its multi-­racial qualified franchise, and thus became the only province where Coloureds and Black Africans could vote. See: Hermann Giliomee, “The Non-­Racial Franchise and Afrikaner and Coloured Identities, 1910 – 1994”. African Affairs 94 (375) (1995), 199 – 225. 66 Feinberg, Natives Land Act, 69, 70. 67 Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 174.

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The Land Act solved two problems that were prominent in the thinking of whites – the labour shortage, and the fear of losing land that had been gained by conquest through the market. A main goal was to abolish the system of ‘farming-­ on-­the-­half ’ and to eliminate squatter locations. Farming-­on-­the-­half was a widespread practice. Africans who owned their own ploughs and oxen entered into a partnership with a white landowner and worked on the land, handing over half their seed and crops in exchange for the right to cultivate. Many Africans on farms in the Free State, Northern Cape, and Western Transvaal were such sharecroppers. The system was popular among blacks as well as whites. But there were also many whites who regarded it as bad, on one hand because it involved a partnership between white farmers and Native labourers, on the other, because they feared the land would be destroyed due to Native agricultural practices.68 The land law was to become part of a broader pattern of legislation designed by the Union to implement segregation within South African society.69 There were people who hoped the Act would serve as the basis of a complete partition and a solution to the country’s racial tensions. Although the Act had little short-­ term impact, the legislation did have consequences. The economist and historian Francis Wilson has pointed out that hundreds of black South Africans were immediately uprooted from white-­owned farms and sent looking for a new place to live. Hardest hit were the so-­called black bywoners, wealthier Africans who had built up some capital under the farming-­on-­the-­half system.70 In his 1916 book ‘Native Life in South Africa’, Solomon Plaatje describes the plight of sharecroppers in the Free State who were thrown off their land as a direct consequence of the Natives Land Act.71 It is possible that Wilson was the first modern historian to use Plaatje’s text for his studies.72 According to the historian and anthropologist Colin Murray, it is difficult to know the numbers of evictions in Thaba Nchu, a region that included two of three scheduled areas in the Free State. Murray quotes Plaatje’s ‘great dispersal’, but he is not convinced of the scale.73 Archival records provide few concrete numbers; this point will be treated in more detail below.

68 Francis Wilson, “Farming, 1866 – 1966”. In: Monica Wilson, Leonard Monteath Thompson (eds.), “The Oxford History of South Africa. Vol II . 1870 – 1966”. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971), 104 – 171: 127, 128. 69 Feinberg, Horn, Farm Purchases, 42. 70 Wilson, Farming, 130. 71 Sol Plaatje, “Native Life in South Africa – Before and Since the European War and the Boer Rebellion”. (South Africa: Tsala Ea Batho, 1917), 66. 72 Beinart, Delius, Legacy of the Natives Land Act, 673. 73 Murray, Black Mountain, 85.

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The Land Act has often been an issue in political and historical debates. It was easily passed by the parliament in 1913 because there was little difference of opinion among the members of parliament about the main aim of the legislation – racial segregation. The government reacted to the pressure of a group of fanatical parliament members, especially from the Orange Free State, who were intent on imposing their racial ideology on the rest of the nation. The ministry feared the consequences of a political split between Afrikaners. But ultimately the most devastating consequences of the Natives Land Act were those for the African population. For decades after the Act’s passing, it was bitterly denounced by African leaders.74 Other laws promoting segregation or increasing government power over the African majority followed: Native Affairs Act, 1920; Natives Urban Areas Act, 1923, Native Administration Act, 1927. In 1936, twelve years after J. B. M. Hertzog’s National Party had won the elections in 1924, the white parliament passed the Natives Trust and Land Act. This Act created the South African Native Trust, which was officially authorised to buy land and allot it to Africans. Legally, the Native Trust was also authorised to sell land to Africans.75 The Native Trust and Land Act was introduced as an integral part of Hertzog’s segregation policy. It was an attempt to settle the final division of South Africa’s land between the races. An area of 7,250,000 morgens was earmarked for being transferred to the Native Reserves. The right of Africans to purchase land outside the reserved areas was abolished in the Cape. The African population there was reduced to the same status as Africans in the other three provinces.76 But according to the studies of Harvey Feinberg and André Horn, the Act can also be interpreted as responding to the problem of the weakness of the Natives Land Act, which it did not stop Africans from buying land in the Union. Using the so-­called exception clause, Africans bought farms and lots at an increasing rate especially in the Transvaal between 1913 and 1936. According to Christoph Marx, ‘white South Africa’ was a myth from the beginning because the African population, especially in rural areas, was always much larger.77 In the end, European power was not unlimited, and the aim of a complete racial segregation failed in this early period of the Union. The result was a radicalisation of segregation politics in a second phase of

74 Feinberg, Natives Land Act, 108, 109. 75 T. R. H.Davenport, K.Hunt (eds.), “The Right to the Land”. (Cape Town, London: Oxford University Press, 1974), 32. 76 Roux, Land and Agriculture, 173. 77 Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 174.

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the Union, which lasted until 1948, based on political, economic, administrative and investigative questions. 1.1.2 The Second Phase of the Union: White Poverty and Racially Ordered Legislation

The idea of a white man’s country had to remain just that – an idea. The overwhelming majority of the black population formed a growing presence in common areas that had been defined as white. By the 1920s and 1930s segregation policies had come to entail not only political and special segregation, but also subsidies for white commercial farming, the protection of urban workers, and the rehabilitation of so-­called poor whites.78 In the course of the 20th century, South Africa developed a public system of social welfare based primarily on social assistance, a system exceptional in the ‘Global South’. According to Jeremy Seekings, the root of South Africa’s welfare policies was not the Carnegie Poor White Commission, which was active from 1929 to 1932, and the subsequent politicisation of the ‘poor white problem’. The state had already begun to assume responsibility for poverty in the 1920s. In a period of social and economic tension due to economic changes and workings of the ‘market’, social welfare was a response to increasing poverty, but also significantly to swartgevaar – Afrikaans for “black danger”, namely, the physical, occupational and social mobility of blacks. Racial segregation was not only a matter of shutting Africans out; segregation in South Africa meant uplifting poor white people through ‘civilized labour politics’, land settlement policies in rural regions, and welfare reform.79 The Hertzog administration, a coalition government including the small Labour Party and the Republican National Party, which was elected into office in 1924, has been evaluated in more recent literature as having been rather defensive regarding the implementation of segregation. Despite the fact that several pieces of legislation were enacted – as stated above – the implementation of these acts and other practices remained lenient. At an ideological level, Hertzog claimed to be executing a pro-­white labour policy because white workers did not benefit enough from the revenue from the gold mines.80 Labour policies were referred to as ‘civilized labour policies’. Hertzog defined civilised labour as the ‘labour 78 Giliomee, The Afrikaners, 312. 79 Jeremy Seekings, “Not a Single White Person Should Be Allowed to Go Under: Swartgevaar and the Origins of South Africa’s Welfare State, 1924 – 1929”. The Journal of African History 48 (3) (2007), 375 – 394: 375, 376, 378, 381. 80 Davenport, South Africa, 293.

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rendered by persons whose standard of living conforms to the standard of living generally recognized as tolerable from the usual European standpoint’. ‘Uncivilized labour’, in contrast, was described as ‘[…] labour rendered by persons whose aim is restricted to the bare requirements of the necessities of life as understood among barbarous […] people’.81 The perception and experience of white poverty, allegedly resulting from the competition with cheap black labour, constitutes one of the political motives for the later development of the apartheid state.82 The Carnegie report of 1932, a five-­volume research report on problems of the white South African population, presented poverty as one of the major tribulations of the nation.83 The number of poor white people had been climbing steadily since the end of the 19th century and had reached a first peak of 300,000 individuals at the beginning of the 1930s, almost one-­seventh of the total population of two million people. The Commission acknowledged that exact numbers were not practicable, because of undetermined parameters such as, for example, ‘a decent standard of living for white men’.84 The reasons for white poverty were seen in the transition process to capitalist modes of production alongside increasing urbanisation. Important in the context of the paper was the assumed danger of the alleged competition between poor whites and so-­called non-­Europeans. The research report deals with this antagonism in the whole first chapter. The Carnegie Commission discovered a large rise in the number of black denizens in the Cape region and the Orange Free State. In contrast, the number of white citizens (‘European population’) of these areas seemed to have dwindled. Politically, an important claim of the report was that the black population had profited from the progress produced under the white government and thus had gone through a phase of demographic ascent. As a consequence, Europeans were supposedly being driven out of their living quarters as well as out of blue-­collar jobs. It was in this context that outwardly scientific foundations were laid for the future reorganisation of land distribution and greater control of black agriculture. Because of the increase of the black population, the number of livestock and the acreage under black possession had increased notably. The enlarged demand for 81 Seekings, Swartgevaar, 377. 82 Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 172. 83 Carnegie Commission, “The Poor White Problem in South Africa. Report of the Carnegie Commission”. (Stellenbosch: Pro Ecclesia-­Drukkery, The Avenue, 1932). 84 Carnegie Commisssion, “Joint Findings and Recommendations of the Commission”. Carnegie Commission, Carnegie Commission, “The Poor White Problem in South Africa. Report of the Carnegie Commission”. (Stellenbosch: Pro Ecclesia-­Drukkery, The Avenue, 1932), v – xxxiii: vii.

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products imported from Europe supposedly created an agricultural market. The resulting degradation of the soil occurred everywhere where black tenants and landowners worked on the land. This degradation was especially dangerous in areas where black and white farms were adjacent to one another, since the soil degradation would, it was thought, migrate from the black farms to the white ones.85 The report makes it clear that poor whites were not the poorest people in the state; nonetheless they were relatively poor compared to a small but growing number of skilled or semi-­skilled non-­Europeans. This was seen as a danger that would erode the racial hierarchy between civilised labour and allegedly primitive Bantus. As a consequence, the Carnegie report argued against building up South Africa as a welfare state. Instead, farmers in the countryside, as well as workers in urban areas, were to be encouraged to help themselves by means of education and training.86 In summary, the report constitutes an early example of cooperation between politics, ideology, and seemingly scientific objectivity. Today, it is still used in contemporary research on the problem of poverty in South Africa.87 Seeking to restore a clear racial hierarchy, the coalition between the Labour Party and the Nationalists laid a legal groundwork for the implementation of segregation, to which both parties had subscribed, despite the rather defensive announcements of the Hertzog administration regarding indigenous peoples. In a session of the parliament in 1924, Hertzog declared that ‘this government has no Native policy at this moment’, but in 1925 did not hesitate to criticise the previous administration under Smuts for not providing sufficient land to implement spatial segregation. Africans must learn, he claimed, to develop agricultural and industrial advances in the Reserves. In the cities, however, whites should receive preferential treatment in the labour market. For this purpose, the government made land available in addition to those provided by the Land Act.88 The proclaimed aim of protecting white labour from cheap black labour furnished the coalition with a long term as well as a comfortable two-­thirds majority in parliament. The above-­ mentioned Native Trust and Land Act of 1936 stood at the core of the legislation. Further laws served the purpose of controlling the non-­white population. The Immorality Act of 1927 made sexual relations between whites and non-­whites 85 J. F. W. Grosskopf, “Rural Impoverishment and Rural Exodus”. Carnegie Commission, “The Poor White Problem in South Africa. Report of the Carnegie Commission. Capter I”. (Stellenbosch: Stellenbosch: Pro Ecclesia-­Drukkery, The Avenue, 1932) I1 – I245: 5, 10, 158, 159, 242, 243. 86 Ibidem, 162, 162. Seekings, Swartgevaar, 377. 87 Johan Fourie, “The South African Poor White Problem in the Early Twentieth Century: Lessons for Poverty Today”. Management Decision 45 (8) (2007), 1270 – 1296: 1271. 88 Davenport, South Africa, 293.

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illegal. In 1926 the colour bar was raised by the Mines and Works Amendment Act, which stipulated that diplomas and certificates henceforth would only be issued to white and coloured specialists, thus effectively excluding blacks from access to well-­paid jobs.89 After Hertzog’s re-­election in 1929, his government had to grapple with the Great Depression, which set in in 1931. At this point, the Afrikaans–British disagreements in the area of economics once again came to the foreground. Farmers tried to pressure Hertzog’s party to give up the gold standard, following the British example, while the proponents of the mining industry and Smuts’ SAP wanted to maintain the gold standard. On 28 December 1932, it was announced that South Africa would leave the gold standard. This decision accelerated South Africa’s transition from an agricultural to an industrial economy. This economic caesura also helped to restructure the political landscape. The SAP and the National Party approached one another. A coalition between the two parties held advantages for both, especially since Hertzog had lost some of his constituency through his gold standard decision and Smuts wanted to return to power. In March 1933, a new coalition was formed. It was essentially based on seven elements: The stability of South-­African independence according to the Westminster Statute of 1931; acceptance of the national flag; equal linguistic rights for speakers of Afrikaans and English; a policy securing a healthy (that is, white) agricultural population; protection of white labour; the solution of the Native Question through the separation of the ‘races’; and the protection of South Africa’s currency. This new coalition government secured a triumphant victory in the election of May 1933.90 One of the most important political projects within the South African Union, the redemption of earlier enemies during the Anglo–Boer War (1899 – 1902) at the cost of the black majority, was intensely promoted through the election of the new coalition government. The white population made themselves comfortable in ‘their state’.91 In this period, poor whites revolted against being put on the same social level as poor blacks. They wanted to maintain a privileged position. This section of the population was also easily swayed by anti-­British and anti-­Semitic propaganda.92 The new Hertzog government made use of this tendency to pass legislation that bought economic and labour-­related advantages to whites. Voting rights were also 89 William Beinart, ”Twentieth-­Century South Africa”. (Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 46, 82, 114. 90 Davenport, South Africa, 302, 304, 305. 91 Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 176. 92 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 129, 130, 131.

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regulated accordingly. All Blacks in the Cape Province were disenfranchised. Three Native bills were introduced into parliament. The 1936 Native Representation Act limited the rights of Africans in parliament and provincial councils. The 1936 Native Trust and Land Act has been discussed above. And the above-­mentioned 1937 Native Laws Amendment Act severely restricted the mobility of both the rural and the urban black population. These acts are often perceived as the apex of the rationalisation of segregation 93 World War II contributed to tensions within the South African government. Hertzog wanted to maintain neutrality, but Smuts wanted to support Great Britain in the war. A request to declare neutrality was denied by parliament and Smuts was appointed prime minister. But war with Germany was very unpopular among Afrikaans voters. Quasi-­Nazi organisations such as Ossewabrandwag maintained clandestine relations with the Nazis in Berlin.94 Nonetheless, General Smuts won the 1934 elections with an overwhelming majority. South African units fought in World War II in Madagascar, Ethiopia, and North Africa. Meanwhile, major shifts occurred in the South African industrial centres, making it necessary to implement administrative and political changes in indigenous policies. War had strengthened the economy on one hand, but it also caused a severe shortage of labour. The black population consequently moved into the urban and industrial centres, which required changes in South African politics after World War II .95 At the midpoint of the 20th century, Native affairs policies, of central importance to the state, were marked by bureaucratic growth and their being combined with the use of force. This affected virtually all areas of political, economic, and social life, and involved the establishment of a migrant labour system, the erosion of the black share-­cropper system, the creation of labour control policies as well as policies governing the labour bureau system. After 1948, every aspect of black life was subject to white bureaucracy and administration. Ideologues of the Apartheid ‘ethnos theory’ no longer discussed the ‘Native Question’, but presented race and ethnicity as fixed categories. But the intersection of these categories with the dynamism of capitalistic growth precluded the possibility of the apartheid state being placed on automatic pilot. This is why the state had to constantly administer every aspect of life.96

93 Evans, Bureaucracy and Race, 13. 94 Christoph Marx, “Im Zeichen des Ochsenwagens. Der radikale Nationalismus und die Geschichte der Ossewabrandwag”. (Münster: C. H. Beck 1998), 221. 95 Davenport, South Africa, 340, 346. 96 Evans, Bureaucracy and Race, 1, 3, 13.

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1.1.3 Land Disposal Policies and Native Administration during the Segregation Years

The process during the segregation years of building up the republic that later would be called the Apartheid state seems to have been characterised by political disputes and conflicts. One of the main goals of the Union was to develop a Native Administration and historical narrative to finally solve the Native Question. One of the first institutions that offered control over the black population was the Department of Native Affairs (DNA ), established in 1910. The unified state had to deal with the different Native policies in the four former colonies. The governments of the provinces retained their individual characteristics, especially the two former British colonies – Natal and the Cape – in which entirely different principles of Native policy had been developed.97 The DNA enjoyed a reputation for relative consistency in Reserve administration; this derived from the two ways of regulating the Native population in these provinces.98 In Natal, policies continued to follow what was left of the tradition of Theophilus Shepstone, that of governing through tribal institutions.99 Shepstone was the first to use the term Native Administration. This strategy of governance allowed a relatively high level of autonomy of the tribes and was widespread in Natal. Nonetheless, Ivan Evans has argued that Natal’s ‘Shepstone tradition in Native Affairs’ had fallen into disarray after its founder’s death in 1893. In practice, a definite system of Native policies only existed in the Cape Province.100 Politicians in the Cape, still believing that Western law and European culture, if applied systematically, would end African systems of authority and land holding, defended the mission stations founded in colonial times, as well as the right of Africans to hold land outside Reserves and certain other privileges.101 In general, Native Administration was tied to the protracted exclusion of non-­ whites from citizenship, and, from the time of Hertzog’s government, with the establishment of a racially repressive labour market. According to Evans, Native Administration through the Department of Native Affairs could never have be-

97 Howard Rogers, “Native Administration in the Union of South Africa”. (Pretoria: Government Printer, 1949), 42. 98 Evans, Bureaucracy and Race, 13. 99 Rogers, Native Administration, 42. 100 Evans Evans, Bureaucracy and Race, 14. 101 Rosalie Kingwill, “Papering over the Cracks: An Ethnography of Land Title in the Eastern Cape, Kronos”. 40, 1 (2014), 241 – 268: 244, http://www.scielo.org.za/scielo.php?script=sci_ arttext&pid=S0259-01902014000100011&lng=en&nrm=iso, accessed 20. 10. 2016.

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come a civil institution; it was too closely tied to a culture of colonial despotism.102 Saul Dubow has pointed out that in the Union, the DNA was weak and poor, only well represented in the Transkei and the Witwatersrand, and attracting only a tiny fraction of the South African state’s expenditures. Establishing the DNA was a result of the Union Act. Three separate Departments of Native Affairs in the former colonies, with different administrative characters, were thereby merged into one. In the Orange Free State, the Department of Native Affairs had been abolished in 1907. In the different parts of the country, there were many variations in the structure of the DNA after 1910. In the Transkei, a single Chief Magistrate administered Native policies with the support of twenty-­seven magistrates attached to the DNA . The Ciskei was administered by magistrates from the Department of Justice, supported by ‘Superintendents of Natives’ from the Department of Native Affairs. In the Transvaal region, magistrates were controlled by the Department of Justice. At the same time they were ex officio Native Commissioners. In predominantly African areas, the DNA appointed Sub-­ Native Commissioners who were responsible for Native Affairs, although they remained juridical subjects of the Magistrates. Native Administration in Natal and Zululand was coordinated by a Chief Native Commissioner attached to the DNA and stationed in Pietermaritzburg. Magistrates in Natal were also attached to the Department of Justice and supported by DNA staff in matters of Native Administration. In the Orange Free State, some Native Administration was carried out by Justice Magistrates, although the DNA had representatives stationed at Thaba Nchu and Witzieshoek.103 In August 1910, just after the Department of Native Affairs was established, the magistrates of Bloemfontein, Thaba Nchu, Witzieshoek, and Williamsborough acted under the Secretary of the Interior.104 The Thaba Nchu District was regulated under the Native’s Reserves Management Ordinance of 1907 of the Orange Free State. The district was managed by a so-­ called Native Reserve Board, with a group of chairmen in charge. The two magistrates were newly appointed each year and were supported by four chairmen.105 1 02 Evans, Bureaucracy and Race, 14. 103 Saul Dubow, “Racial Segregation and the Origins of Apartheid in South Africa, 1919 – 36”. (Oxford: Macmillan in association with St. Antony’s College, 1989), 77,78. 104 Union of South Africa, Department of Native Affairs, “Philippolis, Bloemfontein, Heilbron, Pretoria, Thaba Nchu 1910”. NASA , Free State Archives Repository (VAB ), Colonial Secretary, Orange River Colony (ORC ) (1901 – 1911) (CO ) 560 933/10. 105 Union of South Africa, Prime Minister’s Office, Minute 357, 1. 2. 1912. Unie van Suid-­Africa, Uitvoerende Raad. Minute 321 – 445, Pretoria, 1912. Both NASA , SAB , Decisions of the Executive Council (1910 – 1985) (URU ) 78 357. Union of South Africa, Prime Minister’s Office, Minute 6. 9. 1944, Regulation Thaba Nchu 1944, NASA , SAB , URU 2189 2544.

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Thus, administrative arrangements were complex, with the various sources of authority making the Department of Native Affairs quite fragmented. Only in the Transkei was there a coherent DNA presence. By the election of Hertzog in 1924, the DNA had nearly been forgotten; in particular, it lacked a full-­time ministerial head.106 Merging different strategies of governance was not the only problem the DNA had to deal with in the first half of the 20th century. The segregation policy of the 1920s and 1930s generally failed. Despite the consolidation of the policy of territorial segregation and the beginnings of urban policy, Native Administration and the DNA seemed helpless. As already described above, the prohibition of Africans buying land was ineffective in certain parts of the country, and labour shortages during the war years caused an urbanisation of the rural black population. In the early 1920s, the Department of Native Affairs was in no position to generate or even manage an ideology of segregation. The revival of this ideology had much to do with the inception of Hertzog’s segregation proposals and the realisation that for implementing segregation, the DNA needed to be stronger. Consolidating its authority, the department sought to encompass everything concerning Native Affairs. Conflicts with other governmental departments developed, this becoming an integral part of the implementation of segregation.107 Until the 1940s, the department was unable to separate itself from its colonialist administrative origins. Native Administration in colonial South Africa, though, was not unique; it was marked by some common characteristics with the rest of Africa. The focus of Native policy lay on rural administration. An adequate institutional response failed to be generated in urban administration, something that would have been necessary in a time of increasing African urbanisation. In general, rural European settlement was of major political significance in the post-­colonial period, even as late as the 1960s. The division of land resources between blacks and whites, the first step taken in the European settlement, is still a central political issue across the entire sub-­continent. After the European conquest, which was completed by 1900, political control was translated into the seizure of land, as well as European settlement by means of legislation and spatial engineering.108 As plans for territorial segregation took shape in South Africa, conflicts between the Lands Department and the DNA came to the fore. Since the conception of the Department of Native Affairs was in itself related to protecting African interests, it attempted to secure as much land as possible for African people. But even after 1 06 Dubow, Racial Segregation, 78, 79. 107 Ibidem, 87, 88. 108 Christopher, Land Disposal Politics, 381, 372.

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the recommendations of the Beaumont Commission, the status of released or dual areas remained ambiguous.109 The government was quite flexible regarding African-­inhabited mission stations in European Areas and, vice versa, European land found in Native Areas. Until the government had made a decision, the existing rights were not restricted.110 In 1930, the Native Economic Commission (NEC ) faced the problem of implementing a land disposal policy based on evicting a great majority of the South African population. The commission saw the main problem being how land had been purchased – in groups or syndicates by black people, versus the individual ownership of white-­owned family farms. Europeans had reduced the Native Areas in size and introduced new things like consumption articles and taxes. Economic pressure would therefore be necessary.111 According to Adam Ashforth, as an answer to various calls for solving the ‘Native Question’, the report of the NEC presented scientific ‘facts’. These facts were related principally to the conditions in the Reserves. While the state of the Reserves, as described by the NEC , allowed critics of the government’s Native policy to point out the impossibility of segregation, the document was also used by segregationists to support arguments viewing the Reserves as a ‘home for the Natives’.112 In the end, the two Land Acts established different ways of controlling Native land, that of the colonial and the subsequent segregation, and the Apartheid era. All land purchased under the 1936 Act was South African Native Trust (SANT ) land, rather than communal land.113 But the spatial engineering through legislation of the South African Union was unable to resolve the problem of unequal land disposal and the earlier forcible appropriation of land by settlers. Another characteristic of the 19th-­century pattern of administration was an emphasis on local autonomy, which invested a Native Commissioner and a magistrate with considerable autonomy to resolve problems locally. This principle had eroded by the time of the Union through rationalisation and bureaucracy, and thus, relations between magistrates and local Africans had already become quite impersonal. According to Evans, however, the insistence on

1 09 Dubow, Racial Segregation, 88. 110 Union of South Africa, Report of the Natives Land Commission U. G. 19-16, 6. 111 Union of South Africa, Report of Native Economic Commission 1930 – 1932. U. G. 22.32 (Pretoria: Government Printer, 1932), NASA , SAB , Secretary of Native Affairs (1880 – 1975) (NTS ) 1772 64/276 (6). 112 Adam Ashforth, The Politics of Official Discourse in Twentieth-­Century South Africa (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990), 73. 113 Brent McCusker, Marubini Ramudzuli, “Apartheid Spatial Engineering and Land Use Change in Mankweng, South Africa: 1963 – 2001”. The Geographical Journal 173 (1) (2007), 56 – 74: 58.

The Union of South Africa  |

local autonomy continued.114 The complexity of administrative arrangements as well as the lack of effective departmental heads made these relations even more difficult. Dubow has noted that the DNA reformulated administrative and ideological objectives that excluded the segregationist discourse. The emphasis on technocratic ideals such as ‘uniformity’, ‘efficiency’, and administrative centralisation increased, while the department’s commitment to the primacy of the ‘man on the spot’ sank. But at the same time the DNA demanded an idealised conception of the so-­called Transkeian tradition.115 Nevertheless, the Native Economic Commission gave the religious character of chieftainship in the so-­called tribes as a reason to use the power of the local chiefs to prompt progress toward a ‘good government’ in the Reserves. It becomes obvious in the report that the aim was to establish a small, better-­educated group of local chiefs and councils in order to gain control over the Reserves.116 The Department of Native Affairs tried to extend this emphasis on local autonomy to the field of urban administration and also gave up giving urban responsibilities to ‘a man on the spot’.117 In general, the government also aimed at racial segregation in urban areas, attempting to copy the principles of the rural administration. The Native Urban Areas Act from 1925 and 1930 included ‘the elimination of Native slums’ and the ‘residential segregation of Natives’. The Native Economic Commission report recognised that there were problems with Native Housing Schemes, which followed the principle of providing houses to local authorities, who in turn rented them to Natives. The need to subsidise housing was an undesirable economic problem. Further, the commission complained about a lack of reliable and qualified chairmen.118 In the end, the NEC report – seemingly a text of argumentation and analysis using methods of systematic observation – became an ideological instrument to gain control over the African population. Throughout the text, a social category is built up called ‘Natives’, which is objectified as if it possessed the behaviour of a material thing. Ashforth points out that the first task of the NEC was to create a framework for constructing a ‘Native problem’. The commission had to determine intellectual parameters in which the relevant issues could be rationally formulated, analysed, and solved. This goal was reached by combining racial and 114 115 116 117 118

Evans, Bureaucracy and Race, 14. Dubow, Racial Segregation, 126. Union of South Africa, Report of Native Economic Commission, 12, 32, 33, 34. Evans, Bureaucracy and Race, 14. Union of South Africa, Report of Native Economic Commission, 62, 72, 73, 74.

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economic categories. The ‘scientific’ discourse of the ‘Native Question’ in the NEC report not only constituted an ‘objective’ legitimation of segregationist policies, it was also able to delegitimise African political opposition. This technocratic solution to the ‘Native Question’, with an emphasis on the development of the Reserves, provided a powerful impetus for building a discourse on segregation policies without terms of political citizenship. Structures of domination marking the South African state could be represented as ‘facts’. As a result, questions of policy and actions by state agents and institutions could be solved through the objective consideration of these given facts.119 A third characteristic of Native Administration in South Africa was the dilemma of the African chiefs who were trusted by the department. In colonial Africa, such a dilemma had also been characteristic of local chiefs, but there was a crucial distinction between the two periods.120 This was directly connected to the question of land and how white settlers approached it. In southern Africa, European settlement was largely uniform in character, with a widespread adoption of standardised farms. The individual white-­owned pastoral farm was the basic settlement element. Settlement continued until virtually all available land had been distributed to European settlers. Only the Native Reserves, often arid and unhealthy regions, were left. This exhaustion of land led to crises in the colonies and, later, when settlement reached its limits, also in the independent states.121 But while British administrators in 19th century had attempted to boost sharecropping to promote colonial commerce, the 20th-­century South African state destroyed the foundations of such production.122 Despite the fact that the enforcement of the Land Act was not particularly effective, after 1913 the terms of land use changed for a large proportion of the black population because of the anti-­squatting measures and the boundaries of the Reserves being defined as scheduled areas. Black squatters were hit very hard because many of them were suddenly landless. Since the scheduled areas encompassed land owned under formal or informal trusteeship systems that had emerged in 19th century in the Transvaal, Orange Free State, Cape, and Natal, single squatters also could not buy land in these areas. As long as the clans of a region remained loyal to the government, it was impossible to gain a single land title. There were at once great numbers of Native outsiders – groups that were later to become ‘surplus people’.123 The Native Reserves in South Africa 119 Ashforth, Politics of Official Discourse, 73, 75, 97, 98. 120 Evans, Bureaucracy and Race,15 121 Christopher, Land Disposal Politics, 379, 380, 381. 122 Evans, Bureaucracy and Race, 15. 123 Plaatje, Native Life, 4, 5.

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were thus stripped of the capacity to generate a wealthy class of crofters who had pecuniary interest in the state. Instead they developed into cheap labour reservoirs and became exporters of ultra-­cheap migrant labour to growing capitalist South Africa. Around 1940, agricultural output in the Reserves was inadequate or even non-­existent. Subsistence production had gone into steep decline during the interwar years. According to Evans, in this context, the dilemmas of local chiefs primarily sprang from their political relationship to the administrative structure in the Reserves, not from conflicts regarding production. The department’s policies in the interwar years excluded local chiefs from administration and placed them under the command of the white magistrates to force the Betterment projects and land reclamation schemes.124 For example, in 1941, the Native Commissioner of the Thaba Nchu District reported about a conflict with Headman Setouto, who did not support the policy of the department that wanted to limit the residences of the Natives to six morgens of land – four for summer crops and two for winter crops. People with more land would have to forfeit it, while people with less land would gain more. Setouto told the inhabitants that they did not have to support the department’s policies. As a result, most of the residents did not appear for the land’s demarcation. The conflict ended with the dismissal of the headman by the department in Pretoria.125

1.2 Environmentalism, Planning of Spatial Segregation, and Early Betterment Schemes 1.2.1 Environmental History and Land Approach

As William Beinart already pointed out in the 1980s, understanding rural politics in South Africa demands a deeper analysis of state intervention in peasant agriculture. In the two settler states of South Africa and Rhodesia, a rural anti-­colonial struggle underwent an acute phase in the 1940s and 1950s. This climax coincided with heightened government commitments aimed at ideological and financial development. Agricultural development schemes affected settlement arrangements as well as the control of land, labour, and livestock.126 Such agricultural schemes 1 24 Evans, Bureaucracy and Race, 15, 16. 125 Native Commissioner Thaba Nchu, Secretary of Native Affairs, File 10/54, 1942, NASA , SAB , NTS 308 1054. 126 William Beinart, Soil Erosion, Conservationism and Ideas About Development: A Southern African Exploration, 1900 – 1960, Journal of Southern African Studies 11 (1) (1984), 52 – 83: 52, 53.

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were closely related to concerns about soil erosion and a new awareness of the necessity of preserving natural resources. Welfare of the soil often emerges as the prime reason for justifying intervention in peasant agriculture. There was anxiety over the impact of both white settlers and African farmers. From the 1930s the state wanted to play a leading role in combating the danger of soil erosion. The formulation of strategies and their implementation were powerfully influenced by racism and the different political and economic situations of blacks and whites in the segregation years as well as the later apartheid state.127 To analyse the connection between racial segregation and environmentalism in South Africa, it is necessary to look at two major points: the rise of conservationist ideas and environmental changes in the country. According to Beinart, new scientific insights in fields such as botany, geology, forestry, and water management had a strong influence. This fact is often overlooked in the history of life in South Africa. But in general, natural forces are more than a backdrop to human history.128 Especially in Africa, environmental issues have been a major concern for geographers, anthropologists, medical scientists, and archaeologists. In contrast, historians and social scientists have often been uneasy about incorporating environmental questions into their work. This hesitation has been due to an intellectual distinction in earlier Western traditions that appealed to a strong belief in environmental determinism to explain societies, racial characteristics, and social division.129 Indeed, in the early 20th century, the predominant discourse in South Africa was one of environmental determinism, especially entertained by geographers, whereby human physique and culture are controlled by the environment. This assumption was justified by the low to middle latitude of the country and the juxtaposition of vigorous white and black communities. In a discourse analysis, Wilhelm Barnard has pointed out three overlapping narratives. First, the degeneration of whites in warmer regions as the ultimate cause of the poor white problem; second, the more efficient use of higher, cooler regions by white people; and third, the presumption that whites were physically and mentally improved by evolutionary adaption to the local climate and should be segregated from the black population. Scientifically outdated after World War II , these concepts nevertheless supported Apartheid for the rest of the 20th century.130 Concern about 1 27 Delius, Schirmer, Soil Conservation, 719. Beinart, Soil Erosion, 53. 128 William Beinart, “The Rise of Conservation in South Africa: Settlers, Livestock, and the Environment 1770 – 1950”. (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2003), XV . 129 William Beinart, “African History and Environmental History”. African Affairs 99 (395) (2000), 269 – 302: 269. 130 Wilhelm S. Barnard, “Suid-­Afrika en die Klimatologie van Ras: Grepe uit’n vroee 20ste Eeuse Omgewingsdiskoers”. Tydskrif vir Geesteswetenskappe 46 (1) (2006), 138 – 153: 138.

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the destructiveness of human society as well as anxious environmentalism has been a dominant strand in environmental history since the 1970s, especially in the United States. The ‘taming’ of nature and indigenous peoples have emerged as central motifs.131 For Africanists, it has become more useful to introduce environmental issues into the framework of a new environmental history: an anti-­colonial approach that emphasises African initiative in the face of European conquest and capitalist exploitation.132 It is appropriate at this point to introduce the term Socio-­Ecological System. Socio-­Ecological Systems are ecological systems intricately linked with and affected by one or more social systems. Resilience is a key property of SES . Resilience can be defined as the capacity of a system to withstand or recover from shocks. Resilience is informed by complex adaptive systems characterised by cross-­scale interactions and feedback loops between ecological, social and economic components that often result in the reorganisation of these components and non-­linear trajectories of change.133 One example of SES are cultural landscapes, which are defined as ‘geographic areas in which the relationship between human activities and the environment have created ecological, socio-­economic and cultural patterns’, and can be recognised as a ‘network of interactions between resources and users, shaping a diversified natural, cultural and economic mosaic’.134 According to Holling, hierarchies and adaptive cycles form the basis of ecosystems and social-­ ecological systems across scales. Together they form a so-­called panarchy that describes how a healthy system can invent and experiment while being kept safe from factors that destabilise the system because of their nature or excessive exuberance. Each level is allowed to operate at its own pace. At the same time, it is protected from above by slower, larger levels but invigorated from below by faster, smaller cycles of innovation. The whole panarchy is, therefore, creative as well as conserving. The interactions between cycles combine learning with continuity. In this context, sustainable development is an important factor. Sustainability is defined as the capacity to create, test, and maintain adaptive capability. Holling describes development as the process of creating, testing, and maintaining op 131 See William Beinart, Peter Coates, “Environment and History: The Taming of Nature in the USA and South Africa”. (London: Taylor & Francis, 2002). 132 Beinart, African History, 270. 133 B. H. Walker, L. H. Gunderson, A. P. Kinzig, C. Folke, S. R. Carpenter, and L. Schultz, “A Handful of Heuristics and Some Propositions for Understanding Resilience in Social-­ Ecological Systems”. Ecology and Society 11 (13) (2006), http://www.ecologyandsociety.org/ vol11/iss1/art13/, accessed 24. 10. 2016. 134 Almo Farina, “The Cultural Landscape as a Model for the Integration of Ecology and Economics”. BioScience 50 (4) (2000), 313 – 320: 313.

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portunity. Sustainable development combines the two and refers to the aim of fostering adaptive capabilities and creating opportunities.135 During the last fifteen years, a large number of spatial studies have been conducted based upon the theory of SES . For example, Giannecchini, Twine and Vogel undertook research in former Native Areas. They define the landscapes as cultural landscapes. Their study of 2006 found the landscapes in three villages in Limpopo, a former Native Area, to be heterogeneous and dynamic. By analysing connections between social and biophysical factors of change, a range of interacting forces were revealed, such as land shortages, population growth, and weakening institutional governance of reducing resources. In general, they emphasise the importance of studies at a local level because understanding local patterns and processes is closely linked to the sustainability of socio-­economic development.136 In the context of an analysis of the implementation of a racially segregated state, local studies can be useful as examples, but not as a principal method of research. Nonetheless, the notion of social-­ecological systems is useful as a conceptual framework to show human–environment interactions in this era of South African history. In relation to Southern African regions, recent studies have dealt with the issue of uncertainty, defined here as an integral feature of complex adaptive systems. In SES , this arises from several sources. First, SES are self-­organising; they continuously evolve and change in interaction with external shocks and internal system changes. Understanding these dynamics and interactions within an SES necessitates, at least to some extent, an ongoing assessment. Managing SES requires continual learning and adaptation of strategies. Second, uncertainty arises from interactions between the components of the system – for example, plants, livestock, people – that give rise to emergent SES properties, especially nonlinear behaviour that cannot be predicted from knowledge of the individual system parts. A third source of uncertainty comes from societal values, which play a critical role in deciding desired social and ecological outcomes, resolving trade-­offs, and influencing tolerance of risk and uncertainty. Differences in values between different societal groups and changes in values over time create substantial uncertainties.137 A computer-­based SES model of a communal livestock producer in Thaba Nchu created by researchers in the RCR project has helped to change the paradigm of the ‘tragedy of commons’ that links so-­called common-­pool resources with ecological degradation due to 135 C. S. Holling, “Understanding the Complexity of Economic, Ecological and Social Systems”. Ecosystems 4 (5) (2001), 390 – 405: 390. 136 Giannecchini, Twine, Vogel, Land-­Cover Change, 26, 27, 41. 137 Reinette Biggs et al., “Strategies for Managing Complex Social-­Ecological Systems in the Face of Uncertainty: Examples from South Africa and beyond”. Ecology and Society 20 (1) (2015), http://www.ecologyandsociety.org/vol20/iss1/art52/, accessed 24. 10. 2016.

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over-­appropriation.138 In 1968 Garret Hardin presented the thesis that in cases of communal use of resources, the actions of rational individuals have external effects on other actors, a situation that was predicted to result in a ‘tragedy of the commons’, that is, ecological and economic collapse.139 This paradigm and its modification will be part of the discussion of the ecological collapse in the Bantustans in the Apartheid era in chapter two. In general, setting resilience as a fundamental property of SES determines a direction of analysis to use for the improvement of sustainable development and the reduction of vulnerability. While this might be useful in certain circumstances, it is questionable for historical research. The applicability of the SES theory, as well as the computer-­based SES model of Thaba Nchu, will be discussed below. In recent studies, it has become clear that the principal causes of land degradation in South Africa have been land use and questions of land tenure. Today, land tenure patterns rooted in the colonial and Apartheid past lie against a backdrop of aridity and climate variability making land susceptible to degradation. This highlights the importance of which land was appropriated by settlers and which remained in the hands of those who were colonised.140 According to M. Timm Hoffman, South Africa’s political, social, cultural as well as natural environments changed after the Natives Land Act 1913. Any review of land use and land-­cover change must be contextualised within the successive colonial and apartheid governments and their policies of spatial division according to racist ideology. The former black Homeland areas, already condemned in the NEC report of 1932 because of the system of communal tenure, have a fundamentally different environmental history from the state-­owned conservation areas and private-­owned white farms. Different population pressures, cultivation practices, stocking densities, resource uses, and levels of state support have resulted in different trajectories of environmental change. Hoffmann suggests analysing how South African landscapes have changed since 1913. Patterns of change in the vegetation include the main land-­use impacts, such as the cultivation of crops, grazing of livestock, fire, alien plant invasions, as well as the influence of several climatic variables. Hoffmann has described the major changes in agriculturally important biomes (Succulent Karroo, Nama Karoo, Grassland, and Savanna biomes). All of these areas also have very different 138 Sebastian Rasch, Thomas Heckelei, Roelof Oomen, Christiane Naumann, “Cooperation and Collapse in a Communal Livestock Production SES Model – a Case from South Africa, Environmental Modelling & Software” (2014), http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/​ ­article/pii/S136481521400365X, accessed 24. 10. 2016. 139 Garrett Hardin, “The Tragedy of the Commons”. Science 162, 3859 (1968), 1243 – 1248: 1243. 140 Hoffman, Meadows, Nature, Extent and Causes of Land Degradation, 429, 430, 435.

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socio-­political histories.141 The 1913 Act and later Apartheid legislation had direct consequences for smallholder or African sharecropper farmers in communal areas, as well as for white-­owned farms in the Grassland and Savannah biomes of the more mesic and productive eastern parts of South Africa.142 The Nama-­Karroo biome, situated in the arid interior of South Africa, and Little Karroo, which forms part of the Succulent Karoo biome in the south, were primarily used for commercial agriculture under white freehold tenure. In Namaqualand, part of the Succulent Karoo biome, about 25 per cent of the land was managed under communal land tenure. Communal areas were governed differently from commercial areas by a set of laws in the Natives Land Act 1923.143 Using various methods, including repeat photography, Hoffmann has analysed changing vegetation in South Africa in relation to the socio-­political context of the relevant region. The most significant change in all analysed human-­environmental systems took place during the Apartheid era. This will be discussed in more detail below. From 2010 to 2013, the RCR ’s project A1 investigated how sensitive and to what extent soil properties reacted to different forms of rangeland management in the grassland and Savannah biome of semi-­arid South Africa, and to what degree changes in the ecosystems have been caused by farmers’ decisions. The grassland biome that was investigated is situated in Thaba Nchu, and thus this case study has been highly relevant to the present work. The Savannah biome was situated in Kuruman. In general, little socio-­anthropological assessment was made, in contrast to the research that has been done by Hoffmann as well as by the Plant Conservation Unit of the University of Cape Town. Social-­anthropological studies have only been undertaken in the grassland biome in Thaba Nchu. One aim of the present work is to confirm that the social-­ecological-­system situation in the region today was primarily shaped by history. While the rural area of Thaba Nchu was mainly characterised by agricultural and pastoral production until the 1930s, this changed significantly in the course of the Apartheid policies.144 It is indeed ironic that the fear of soil erosion and land degradation was used as an argument to support land-­tenure schemes that in the end led to an environmental collapse. 141 M. Timm Hoffman, “Changing Patterns of Rural Land Use and Land Cover in South Africa and their Implications for Land Reform”. Journal of Southern African Studies 40 (4) (2014), 707 – 725: 707, 709. 142 Charles van Onselen, “The Seed Is Mine: The Life of Kas Maine, a South African Sharecropper, 1894 – 1985”. (Cape Town: David Philip, 1996). 143 Hoffman, Patterns of Land Use, 709. 144 Wulf Amelung, Chris du Preez, Jörg Löffler, “Vulnerability and Resilience of Soils Under Different Rangeland Use”. Proposal for Project A1, FOR 1501 Phase II , 41, 46, 47.

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Although South Africa has a long history of research into land degradation, until the late 1980s southern African environmental history has been a quite neglected field. Only since then have environmental issues become points of interest, as for example, biodiversity conservation, eco-­justice, colonial agricultural policy, and science. Especially spatial questions such as cartographic history and the demarcation of space are emerging themes in African environmental history. During the building up of the Apartheid state, which on the continent was a singular political path, South Africa’s domestic physical landscape was atomised by social engineers into contrived and artificial Native Areas, later called Homelands or Bantustans.145 A closer analysis of colonial environmental history has revised earlier understandings of power relations and environmental transformation in South Africa. Jane Carruthers, William Beinart, and others consider environmental history to be an important aspect of African history. Any future African historiography should be characterised by an innovative interdisciplinary approach, as well as a corrective anti-­colonial standpoint.146 1.2.2 Environmentalism and the Origins of Soil Conservation Programmes

Since the early 20th century, ecology has become a popular framework within which to organise knowledge, debate social issues, and think about environmental questions. The early period of ecological analysis coincides with the last years of the British Empire and the first years of the South African Union. The concept of ecology had supporters in the economic and political administration of the British Empire’s environmental and social order. In his study on imperial ecology, Peder Anker has described two major patronage networks. A small patronage system centred in the southern part of the empire, in the circles about the above-­ mentioned leading political figure and botanist Jan Christian Smuts; a larger one was centred in the north. The latter encompassed a whole set of British agencies based in England. Both needed tools for understanding human relations with nature and society in order to set policies for administrating landscapes, population settlement, and social control. While British scientists in the north established a mechanistic view of ecology suitable for developing a system of control of material and human resources in the empire, the small group of ecologists around Smuts 145 Jane Carruthers, “Tracking in Game Trails: Looking Afresh at the Politics of Environmental History in South Africa”, Environmental History 11 (4) (2006), 804 – 829: 804, 808, 809. 146 Beinart, African History, 272, 301. Carruthers, Tracking in Game Trails, 309.

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argued for an idealistic ecology that would be able to solve environmental, social, and racial problems through a politics based on holism. The debate ultimately led to two different approaches toward the inclusion of humans in ecological research and policies.147 Beinart has pointed out that in this context, colonial conservationism and environmental regulation were seen as facilitating colonial development. The discipline of ecology in the early 20th century informed understandings of environmental change and intervention, although it owed a good deal to the global imperial context. Far-­reaching interventions to protect nature and wildlife were also able to mask the real intentions of colonial states, especially where settlers were present. Later resettlement and social engineering projects were rooted in this scientific and modernising logic, and became the subject of a justificatory discourse that had outlived the colonial era. It remained a central idea in the development strategies of post-­colonial African states as well as of international agencies.148 According to Saul Dubow, the notion of civilisation as a key justification for British imperialism was not acceptable to the Afrikaner or English-­ speaking South Africans. One way out of the ideological impasse of looking for reconciliation between Boer and Briton, as well as racial segregation between black and white, was to recast the idea of civilisation in the guise of scientific progress and technological development.149 There is no obvious link between Smuts’ idea of a holistic ecology and the intensification of environmental protection and concern over soil erosion during his most important political era. His politics were full of contradictions. He was known as a defender of human rights; at the same time, he carried out a policy of racial segregation and political oppression. According to Anker, this paradox was part of a rational and ecologically-­oriented politics of holism. Smuts was interested in the natural laws that govern the human condition and character; he tried to govern a state by transferring such natural laws to his country’s civic constitution.150 His work ‘Holism and Evolution’ was published in 1926. Strongly influenced by Walt Whitman, Charles Darwin, and Albert Einstein, Smuts established a natural world that was alive and good. The organism was a ‘little living world in which law and order reign’. He projects this ‘unselfish mutual loyalty and duty in the cells of an organism’ into an ideal of politics that should also aspire and 1 47 Anker, Imperial Ecology, 2. 148 Beinart, Environmental History, 273, 275. 149 Saul Dubow, “A Commonwealth of Science: The British Association in South Africa, 1905 and 1929”. Saul Dubow (ed.), “Science and Society in Southern Africa”. (Manchester, New York: Manchester University Press, 2000), 66 – 100: 93. 150 Anker, Imperial Ecology, 41, 157.

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strive for these ideals. Important for his political attitude was the idea of a ‘scale of nature’. Using the theory of evolution of organisms, he posited the existence of demarcations between high and low ‘wholes’.151 This notion of high and low personalities was crucial in Smuts’ Native policy. It allowed him to develop a civilisation ladder based on the distinction between more and less advanced people. In his view, human rights were a ‘function of personality’. Smuts became known for a graduated respect for people according to their personalities. In his thinking, the genius of highly advanced people was a result of successive cycles of mental growth. Others could only struggle and try to evolve.152 In this context, ‘cultural adaption’ was one theme in the segregation ideology of the 1930s. Each culture was deemed worthy and capable of progressive development, albeit along separate lines. As Saul Dubow has pointed out, this new ideology was able to avoid untenable aspects of biological racism, while nonetheless feeding on a wide range of racist assumptions.153 Throughout the 1930s, while Prime Minister, Minister of Justice, and leader of the opposition, Smuts himself maintained his interest in ecology and philosophy. He was guided by the efforts of ecologists like John William Bews and John Phillips, who provided him with regular updates on advances in the scientific knowledge of natural laws governing people. There were two important aspects of human ecological research. The so-­called human gradualism of human personalities and a concept of an ecological ‘biotic community’ were topics that could be used to be transformed into a policy of gradualism that respected local ways of life in different biotic communities. Smuts modelled nature according to his social and political values.154 Ecophilosophy was an instrument to glorify white supremacy, with a division of society into high and low ‘wholes’. Before World War II , the problem of soil erosion in South Africa had been identified as urgent and deserving of international attention. In the first half of the 20th century, a north-­eastward expansion of the dwarf scrublands of the Nama-­Karoo biome into the grasslands of the Free State Province was examined 151 Jan Christiaan Smuts, “Holism and Evolution”. (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1926, Reprint 2009), V, 59, 60, 220, 221, 347. 152 Anker, Imperial Ecology, 45, 46. 153 Saul Dubow, “Race, Civilization and Culture: The Elaboration of Segregationist Discourse in the Interwar Years”. Shula Marks, Stanley Trapido (eds.), “The Politics of Race, Class and Nationalism in Twenthieth Century South Africa”. (London: Longman, 1987), 71 – 94: 89. Giliomee, The Afrikaners, 447. 154 John Bews, “Life as a Whole”. (London: Longmans, Green, 1937). J. W. Bews, “An Account of the Chief Types of Vegetation in South Africa, with Notes on the Plant Succession”. Journal of Ecology 4, 3/4 (1916), 129 – 159; John Phillips, “The Biotic Community”. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1931).

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in a number of local studies. In 1923, the Drought Investigation Commission concluded in its final issue that the deterioration of the vegetation cover, which resulted in soil erosion, was brought about by incorrect veld management. It warned of the consequences of high stocking rates, the lack of proper fencing, and grazing management systems.155 The concern over land degradation was also influenced by comparative experiences as well as international scientific and popular literature that highlighted the prevalence of soil erosion. The British colonial scientists Jacks and White identified South Africa as an ‘erosion hot spot’. They noted common characteristics of environmental problems in all parts of Africa: destruction of the vegetative cover, sheet or wind erosion, shortage of water, and increasing desiccation. In contrast to the Drought Investigation Commission, they defined overstocking as a cause of soil erosion, but also identified other causes, such as uncontrolled burning of grassland, the great uncertainties in the South African climate, deforestation, and the construction of roads and railways ‘without regard to control of storm water’.156 In 2014 Hoffmann confirmed the influence of the climate on the vegetation. For example, shifts in the seasonality of rainfall have a significant influence on the proportion of grasses and shrubs in the landscape.157 In his article ‘Man at the Cross-­Roads’, published in 1932, John Phillips recites a list of factors involved in the ongoing environmental crisis in South Africa, including intensified burning of vegetation, wasteful agricultural practices, overstocking, destruction of plants, and decimation of animals. In Phillips’ eyes, both Natives and Europeans were to blame for these problems, but the core of all of them was black people’s desire to be ‘westernised’ and pursue a destructive European lifestyle. Following the theory of Smuts’ holism, he argues that humans should realise their own place and role in nature with the help of science.158 In 1939, Jacks and White identified the environmental catastrophe as a threat to the existence of European settlement on the African continent. In ‘The Rape of the Earth’ the authors complain that political passions and antipathies in South Africa have restrained a co-­operative soil conservation policy. But these arguments were lost in the ethnically nationalist and racist political agenda. Jacks and White themselves did not argue against dominant European influence in the country. But 155 Union of South Africa, “Final Report of the Drought Investigation Commission”. (Pretoria: Government Printer, 1923), U. G. 49/1923, 11, 36, 110, 176. 156 G. V. Jacks, R. O. Whyte, “The Rape of the Earth; A World Survey of Soil Erosion”. (London: Faber and Faber Ltd., 1939), 62, 64, 65. 157 Hoffman, Patterns of Land Use, 716. 158 John Phillips, “Man at the Cross-­Roads”. Anonymous (ed.), “Our Changing World-­View”. ( Johannesburg: University of the Witwatersrand Press, 1932), 51 – 70. Anker, Imperial Ecology, 148.

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they criticised the segregation policy of the South African government as impractical, a fact shown by the appalling erosion in the Native Reserves. They suggest a system of land tenure in which the land is controlled by a ‘class (of the dominant race) […] capable for the perpetuation of conservative land utilization […]’. The authors were aware of the danger of entire land areas being controlled by a few European landowners.159 With the beginning of World War II , the South African cabinet faced a crisis over the nation’s policy. In the course of this crisis, Smuts prevailed with his push to enter the war. He was Prime Minister until 1948. During the war, ecological and agricultural research became part of the ‘home front’ for mobilising South Africa’s food resources and other commodities under the leadership of John Phillips.160 In this context, Phillips developed the idea of ecological segregation that was not enforced politically. Everyone should find a natural place according to their level of ecological state of being. Ecological research on topography, climate, and soil should affect the natural development of various races. Phillips also stressed the need for ‘building up a state in which all men of all colour will be given an even chance.’161 Inspired by this, Smuts started to advocate white settlement in favourable areas. But in 1942, he proposed enforcing the system of trusteeship that had been legalised in 1936. A policy of segregation would stop the migration of Natives to urban areas, as this could hamper a responsible conservation policy.162 The trusteeship system represented an attempt to dignify different forms of citizenship. Smuts hoped that demands for political rights by the black population could be headed off by making pragmatic administrative adjustments.163 After the war years, local research on soil erosion was undertaken. In general, South Africa of the 1940s provides a geographical and historical context that indicates connections between socio-­political forces and environmental conservation efforts.

1 59 Jacks, Whyte, Rape of the Earth, 278, 79, 80. 160 Anker, Imperial Ecology, 75, 157, 182. 161 John Phillips, “Human Ecology: With Special Reference to Man in Relation to His Environment and the Disturbance of Such Inter-­Relations”. South African Journal of Science 36 (1939), 556 – 562: 557, 558, 561. 162 Anker, Imperial Ecology, 184. 163 Saul Dubow, “Smuts, the United Nations and the Rhetoric of Race and Rights”. Journal of Contemporary History 43 (1) (2008): 65.

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1.2.3 The Beginning of Spatial Planning and the Implementation of Soil Conservation in African Areas

Soil conservation policy in South Africa was bent into distinctive forms by the racially ordered state. African farmers, who were already excluded politically, were subjected to coercive policies that had little understanding of traditional practices. On the contrary, so-­called Bantu methods of agriculture were seen as the main reason for soil erosion. A system of communal tenure, the lack of fences, the absence of crop rotation systems, and overstocking were taken to be responsible for the decline of productivity in the Reserves. White farmers, however, used their political influence to soften the prescriptions of the state to better secure their own situation.164 In the early 1920s colonial states and the South African Union began to establish working operations in various governmental departments. There was a variety of ideologies behind these changes. In the case of the South African Union, the concept of trusteeship and the aim of white supremacy seem to have played an important role. Agricultural departments in various British African states put their emphasis on African agriculture during the interwar years for several reasons. The reasoning behind this was to improve primary production for export, or to expand local production to prevent famines. This development coincided with the introduction of soil scientists into the ranks of agriculture departments, as well as the worldwide concern about soil erosion. Colonial states used the threat of erosion to intervene in the lives of their African subjects.165 This was also the policy of South Africa, but in the course of segregation, all aspects of the country’s administration were run by two separate departments. White farming areas fell under the ambit of the Division of Soil and Veld Conservation of the Department of Agriculture. The Native Areas fell under the control of the agricultural branch of the Department of Native Affairs. The two departments only had limited interaction or communication between their officials.166 In the 1930s, the focus of conservationist concern shifted to the Native Areas. Not only the government but also white farmers complained about the ‘destructive farming methods of African communities’.167 In 1932 the Native Economic 1 64 Roux, Land and Agriculture, 181, 182. Delius, Schimer, Soil Conservation, 719, 720. 165 Helen Tilley, “African Environments &Environmenta Lsciences”. The African Research Survey, Ecological Paradigms & British Colonial Development 1920 – 1940; William Beinart (ed.), “Social History & African Environments”. (Oxford: Currey, 2003), 109 – 130: 115, 16, 18. 166 Belinda Dodson, “A Soil Conservation Safari: Hugh Bennett’s 1944 Visit to South Africa”. Environment and History 11 (1) (2005), 35 – 53: 40. 167 Delius, Schirmer, Soil Conservation, 720.

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Commission defined the conditions in the Reserves as a major social and economic problem of the state. The main reasons for these conditions were taken to be the ‘primitive subsistence economy’ and ‘the anti-­progressive social system’ of the rural African population. Economic systems whose main function was the prevention of famine as well as tribal rules were preventing innovative agricultural methods and economic progress. Overstocking was seen as a major problem, one that in the future would lead to ‘desert conditions’ in the Reserves.168 Both the report of the Native Economic Commission of 1932 and the Handbook of Race Relations in South Africa of 1949 concluded that the prime issue was to devise effective measures to develop the Native Areas. The effects of conquest, land alienation, and segregation were not mentioned. The central role of migrant labour in the economy and society of the Reserves was also ignored. The suggested measures included reductions of livestock, fencing of lands, concentrated settlement, further improved seed, and agricultural education.169 This might support the hypothesis that while scientific publications of the South African state were subjugated to the ideology of segregation, the commissioners did acknowledge the fact that more land was required to introduce better farming to the Native Areas. But they also insisted that additional land could ‘put back the wheels of progress’.170 Wide concerns about overstocking, land degradation and soil erosion found expression in the 1936 Land Act, which placed all rural locations and Reserves under the control of the South African Native Trust and marked 7,250,000 morgens to be transferred to the Native Reserves. The Land Acts have been widely discussed as representing the beginning of segregation legislation, but practically they changed the settlement schemes and land tenure systems, which differed from region to region, entirely. Three system of land tenure existed in the country. During the 19th century, freehold titles had been granted to some Africans. For example, in the mission of Durban and in Newtondale in the Peddie District such plots were allocated in 1858. The Cape Colonial legislation entitled African people to buy freehold titles under certain conditions. The land could not be alienated by sale or lease by the holders without the written consent of the Governor. The only people entitled to live on the land were the holder and his direct descendants. Freehold tenure was introduced by the colonial administration in an attempt to wean Africans away from communal tenure. Only certain lands were to be sold

1 68 Union of South Africa, Report of Native Economic Commission, 3, 4, 5, 11, 16. 169 Delius, Schirmer, Soil Conservation, 721. 170 Union of South Africa, Report of Native Economic Commission, 19, 20.

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under individual title.171 In the Transvaal Province, mentioned above, land was purchased by Africans even after the first Land Act of 1913.172 During the Union era, the government tried to justify itself by questioning the viability of freehold tenure systems. It was reported in 1922 that Africans still preferred communal tenure to freehold tenure, since the latter tied them to specific and permanent sites for houses or gardens.173 The Native Economic Commission stated that while the possession of a title afforded the Native a large measure of personal satisfaction, there was very little difference in how the land was worked between surveyed and unsurveyed districts. Their conclusion was that the lack of any increase in production was due to individual tenure being confined to small arable allotments, with the usual size being 3 to 5 morgens.174 In the Ciskei region, a quitrent tenure system had been established in different areas. Quitrent began in the Ciskei in 1849 under the Smith-­Calderwood Location scheme in Victoria East. This scheme was extended under the Native Locations Act of 1879, which gave the government permission to divide the land into individual lots with titles granted upon payment of an annual quitrent tenure fee, which was set by the Governor. This land was offered, subject to nominal quitrent, for periods of 15 years to settlers, who surveyed the land by riding their horses in four directions from a central point in a straight line for half an hour.175 Quitrent was promoted under the 1878 Location Act, which provided for the division of land in Native locations and the granting of quitrent lots to separate individuals. Building plots were separated from garden lots. The system was supported by the British in an effort to stop the sale of freehold land, which had resulted in a loss of income for the Crown. Luvuyo Wotshela has described the long-­term transformation of quitrent tenure and the village model in the Ciskei region of the Eastern Cape Province during the 20th century. The quitrent model there evolved around the colonial mission stations west of the Kei River. Nuclear families were provided individual plots, inheritable only by the eldest male son.176 The Dutch model of quitrent tenure was adapted to African use by

171 Bronwen Elizabeth Viedge, “A History of Land Tenure in the Herschel District, Transkei”. Master Thesis (Rhodes University: 2001), 9, 10. 172 Feinberg, Land Purchase, 42. 173 Davenport, South Africa, 50. 174 Union of South Africa, Report of Native Economic Commission, 20. 175 Viedge, History of Land Tenure, 12. 176 Luvuyo Wotshela, “Quitrent Tenure and the Village System in the Former Ciskei Region of the Eastern Cape: Implications for Contemporary Land Reform of a Century of Social Change”. Journal of Southern African Studies 40 (4) (2014), 727 – 744: 727, 730.

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surveying land into indivisible, individual plots laid out in villages with arable, residential, and grazing allotments. According to Rosalie Kingwill, these spatial and administrative measures were designed with the aim of limiting the authority of chiefs and to facilitate individual identification and taxation through paper titles linked to surveyed land parcels. This spatial model, without title, was later adapted for ‘communal’ tenure arrangements under magistrates and headmen. Sir George Grey, governor of the Cape Colony from 1854 to 1861, introduced special measures whereby Africans could purchase land in freehold. Unlike the grant system, freehold held the promise of access to larger areas of land with less official surveillance.177 The development of the quitrent system as well as the possibility of gaining title deeds contributed to the development of a small African middle class.178 The most practiced and yet most criticised form of land tenure in African communities has been communal land tenure. The system of communal tenure in South Africa evolved from traditional systems of communal land use as well as individualised tenure systems such as quitrent tenure. Communal tenure regards land as belonging to a tribe, with the Chief having the right to grant occupancy. The members of a tribe and the Headmen in turn have the right of subdivision, subject to appeals made to the Chief. All cattle grazes on common land.179 In the Ciskei as well as in other regions of the country, the majority of the African population lived in unsurveyed communal areas. The institution of the SANT in 1936 encouraged the DNA to impose rehabilitation, re-­planning, and administration of rural villages according to their ideas from the 1940s. Betterment planning included not only rehabilitation measures, but also the restructuring of settlements in African regions. Over time, a wide-­ ranging set of schemes was developed, including centralisation of residential areas and demarcation of separate residential, arable, and grazing plots.180 The systematic development and enforcement of these settlement schemes took place after the publication of the report of the Tomlinson Commission in 1955. Nevertheless, I suggest that even in this early phase of segregation, the rigid settlement schemes proposed by officials had devastating consequences for the various forms of African land tenure and settlement. Another important point was that African settlements and farms became enclaves or so-­called svartkolle, that is, Black Spots within largely white-­owned 1 77 Kingswill, Papering over the Cracks, 242, 243. 178 Wotshela, Quitrent Tenure, 731. 179 Viedge, History of Land Tenure, 14. 180 Wotshela, Quitrent Tenure, 735.

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farming districts. In the Ciskei region, communal areas as well as quitrent settlements were found in the districts of Peddie, Victoria-­East, Middledrift, Kreiskammahoek, King William’s Town, and East London. According to Feinberg and Horn, geo-­statistical analysis confirms that the area of African-­owned land units outside the Land Act areas constituted 63 per cent of the land units owned by Africans in the Transvaal. This represents 42.1 per cent of the land owned by Africans.181 Especially in the Letaba District in the Northern Transvaal, after 1913 almost the entire African population was living illegally in white areas.182 Archival records show that in 1927 there were already efforts to remove Natives from the Madeagkam Reserve 183 in the district of Vryburg. To explain this, the magistrate of Vryburg pointed out the situation of the Reserve in the midst of European land. Madeagkam was a Barolong Reserve of 600 morgens and a population of 254 people; they were to be moved to Algiers Crown Reserves within a released area.184 In general, while there were evictions during the segregation era, systematic forced resettlement and removing of Black Spots only took place in the second half of the 20th century. As noted above, between 1913 and 1936 in the Transvaal, land purchases by Africans outside the scheduled areas even increased. The case of the Madeagkam Reserve remained unsolved in 1926/27 as well as in 1937 because of the resistance of the people to move.185 One long-­term ambition of the state was to restructure the Reserves and added crown lands to improve Native methods of agriculture. Land acquired by the Trust was to be systematically renewed. The main focus of this rehabilitation lay in stock limitation.186 According to Chris de Wet, the Trust’s thinking was clearly influenced by the evidence in the Report of the Native Economic Commission that the Reserves were eroded and overstocked, as quoted in the Statement of Policy from 1936. Empowered to adopt conservation measures for existing areas and required land, the Trust started to put conservation plans into practice. 1 81 Feinberg, Horn, Land Purchases, 51. 182 Michelle Hay, “A Tangled Past: Land Settlement, Removals and Restitution in Letaba District, 1900 – 2013”. Journal of Southern African Studies 40 (4) (2014), 745 – 760: 750. 183 There are different written terms for this Reserve: Madeakham, Madeagam and Madeagkam. 184 Magistrate of Vryburg, Bechuanaland to Secretary of Native Affairs, Madeagkam Native Reserve. Unsatisfactory State of Affairs, 22. 10. 1926, NASA , SAB , NTS 7579 90/335. 185 Native Commissioner, Vryburg to Chief Native Commissioner Northern Areas, Pretoria, Removal of Natives from Madegkam Reserve, District of Vryburg, 22. 10. 1937, NASA , SAB , NTS 7579 90/335. 186 Union of South Africa, “Statement of Land Policy under the Native Trust and Land Act, 1936”. (Pretoria: Government Printer, 1937), 10.

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This work was based on the belief that the reason behind poor agriculture land was primarily a technical one.187 In addition to agricultural measures, the SANT expanded local-­level bureaucracy and oversaw a large and technically competent field staff.188 Native rangers were at the bottom of this administrative ladder. There were four groups of Trust officers: European and Native officers, agricultural supervisors, engineers, and house masters.189 In 1939, Proclamation No. 31 provided the legislation and policies to be followed on Trust land. To ‘combat the evil of overstocking’, this proclamation enabled authorities – after consultation with a population – ‘to declare a land unit a Betterment Area’. In such areas, stock numbers would be assessed and surplus animals culled. Officials of the Department of Native Affairs were empowered to conduct a cull.190 Betterment work was seriously hampered in the years of World War II , but was taken up again in 1945. D. L. Smit, Secretary for Agriculture to the Smuts government, proclaimed ‘A new Era of Reclamation’ in a speech at a special session of the Ciskeian General Council in January 1945. Planning Committees consisting of an administrative officer, an agricultural officer, an engineer, a soil chemist, a surveyor, and clerical staff were to be set up in the Native Areas. Guidelines for these committees included land settlement, the establishment of rural villages to accommodate surplus people, erection of fencing, and diverse conservation measures. Smit also defined overstocking as the ‘main cause of deterioration’ in the Native Areas and promised to take ‘whatever steps necessary to save the land’.191 Before World War II , Betterment had focused on livestock farming, stock limitation, and the prevention of soil erosion. The post-­war approach was directed more towards agricultural viability. The plan for relocating the ‘surplus’ non-­agricultural population, combined with the division of locations into residential, arable, and grazing areas, required diverse social and infrastructure transformations. Development in these rural Reserves would be linked to industrial development in urban areas. These transformations were reflected in the stricter

187 De Wet, Betterment Planning, 40, 41. 188 Delius, Schirmer, Soil Conservation, 722. Roux, Land and Agriculture, 172. 189 Union of South Africa, “Regulation no. 90/32”. (Pretoria, 26. 8. 1932), 16, NASA , SAB , Controller and Auditor-­General (1910 – 1968) (KOG ) 181 AO 7/6. 190 Union of South Africa, “Proclamation No. 31 of 1939: Control and Improvement of Livestock in Native Areas”. Government Gazette 24. 2. 1939, 475 – 477: 475. 191 DL Smit, “A New Era of Reclamation.Statement of Policy Made by Mr. D. L. Smit, Secretary for Native Affairs, at a Special Session of the Ciskeian General Council at Kingwilliamstown on the 8th January, 1945”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1945; Johannesburg: Historical Papers Research Archive, 2013), AD 1715, 2, 3, 4.

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control by the Native Commissioners that was implemented in 1949.192 Native Commissioners were provided to decide a cull of stock, or to demarcate parts of an area for residential, arable, and grazing purposes. Between 1945 and the beginning of institutionalised Apartheid after the election on 26 May 1948, rehabilitation schemes in proclaimed Betterment Areas were already being implemented. Archival records provide information about the preparation for and enforcement of stock limitation in the Native Areas of Nqutu and Thaba Nchu. Assessments of carrying capacity and number of cattle were presented in May 1947. For the Molife Ward in the Nqutu areas, with a total area of 27,000 acres, the Department of Native Affairs assessed a carrying capacity of 1 to 8 acres per cattle unit. The assessed number of cattle units was defined as 3,375.193 A given culling scheme was applicable to only one Reserve, with decisions about culling were made according to different criteria. According to the DNA , the table it had worked out would bring about the necessary reduction ‘in a fair manner’. Following the Director of Native Agriculture, culling schemes were to be worked out according to the Rhodesian model, which considered inhabitants who owned only a minimum of livestock.194 As an example, tables 1.2 and 1.3 show the culling schemes for the Masodjeni area in the Nqutu District and the Thaba Nchu District.

1 92 De Wet, Betterment Planning, 43. 193 Chief of the Native Commissioner, Western Areas, Assessment of Cattle Units in the Thaba Nchu District. February 1950, NASA , SAB , NTS 7526 717/327 Vol II . The term cattle units included all kinds of large and small stock. The approximations differed sometimes in the Reserves; if possible I will point out the enumerations. 194 The Director of Native Agriculture to the Controller of Native Agriculture, Report on the Director of Native Agriculture’s Tour No. 71, 27th January to 5th February 1948, 24. 3. 1948. NASA , SAB , NTS 7568 880/327.

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Table 1.2: Recommended Culling Guide, Masodjeni Area, Nqutu Total Reduction: 66 per cent

Number of Cattle Units per Household   4 to 5   6 to 7   8 to 9 10 to 11 12 to 13 14 to 15 16 to 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

Cattle Units to Be Culled 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 17 18 19 19 20 21 22 23

Table 1.3: Culling Guide Thaba Nchu 1947 Total Reduction: 50 per cent

Number of Cattle Units per Household   6 to 7   8 to 9 10 to 11 12 to 13 14 to 15 16 to 17 18 to 19 20 to 21 22 to 23 24 to 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

Cattle Units to Be Culled 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 12 13 13 14 14 15 15 16 16 17 18

Source: Native Commissioner Nqutu to the Director of Agriculture, Pretoria, Culling of Stock. No. 2/18/4/3/2, 11. 2. 1948, NASA, SAB, NTS 7568 880/327.

Source: Native Commissioner Nqutu to the Director of Agriculture, Pretoria, Culling of Stock. No. 2/18/4/3/2, 11. 2. 1948, NASA, SAB, NTS 7568 880/327.

In February 1948, the Chief Native Commissioner Nqutu reported that the culling in Molife Ward would have to be greater than in Thaba Nchu because of heavy overstocking. To reach the assessed number of 3,375, 2,663 cattle units had to be killed. The commissioner tried to make it clear that the situation of every single

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household was considered in the culling scheme. An example of the culling scheme of a single household is shown in table 1.4:195 Table 1.4: Cattle Culling of the Farmer Sibeba Ndvolu

Type of Stock Cattle Sheep Goats Horses Donkey Sum To Be Culled To Remain

Number 67 188 92 8 1 356

Units 67 38 18 8 1 132 88 44

Source: Native Commissioner Nqutu to the Director of Agriculture, Pretoria, Culling of Stock. No. 2/18/4/3/2, 11. 2. 1948, NASA, SAB, NTS 7568 880/327.

The owner could select to keep one or two horses, up to 20 sheep, or 38 cattle. The culling of horses and small stock received prior consideration. The culling in Molife Ward, Nqutu took place on 26 April and 25 May 1948:196 Table 1. 5: Culling

Brought to Cull Culled Remaining Percentage Culled

Cattle 4,333 1,079 3,286 23

Sheep 3,827 2,508 1,345 65

Goats 1177 980 197 83

Horses 169 59 101 37

Donkeys 490 429 61 88

Units 5,990 2,273 3,754 38

Source: Native Commissioner Nqutu to the Director of Agriculture, Pretoria, Culling of Stock, 26. 5. 1948 NASA, SAB, NTS 7568 880/327.

It is not clear why the Nqutu culling scheme is compared to the one in Thaba Nchu. The Betterment Area of Nqutu was situated in the Natal Province, Thaba 195 Native Commissioner Nqutu to the Director of Agriculture, Pretoria, Culling of Stock. No. 2No2/18/4/3/2, 11. 2. 1948, NASA , SAB , NTS 7568 880/327. 196 Correspondence between the Native Commissioner Nqutu, Chief Native Commissioner Natal and the Secretary of Native Affairs, Pretoria, 19. 5. 1947 – 25. 5. 1948, NASA , SAB , NTS 7568 880/327.

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Nchu in the Orange Free State. The assessment of cattle units in Thaba Nchu is further documented in the relevant archival records and will be discussed below.197 1.2.4 Soil Conservation in White Areas

The South African state also developed a soil conservation programme for the white farming areas. It was different in a number of ways. First, the Department of Agriculture developed a range of conservation measures and transferred large numbers of grants and subsidies to white farmers. In 1934 it established Soil Erosion Services to supervise white landowners and pasture research stations to study cases of land degradation.198 The first research stations, like the Prinshof Experimental Stations, dealt with the influence of grazing on the rate and habit of plant growth or the improvement of the resistance of grasses to promote economic value.199 Different schemes were implemented by the government to encourage landowners to erect anti-­soil-­erosion works. White farmers who wanted to improve their soil and took part in projects under the schemes received high levels of financial and direct assistance. Applications could be submitted under five schemes presented by the Department of Agriculture. Soil erosion or small-­dam works completed at the applicants’ expense were submitted with 25 to 33 per cent of the costs. Also, a subsidy of 25 per cent was granted to cover the construction of approved works. The state also paid 87 per cent of the wages of unemployed Europeans who worked a soil erosion or small-­dam scheme project supported by the Department of Agriculture. Loans for purchasing material could be acquired as well. A payment of 25 per cent could be submitted for erecting fences or planting trees and shrubs as an anti-­soil-­erosion measure in an eroded area. Soil erosion committees consisted of a magistrate and two farmers, but the officials were provided with few coercive powers.200 In contrast to conservation measures on black farms, white farmers were not forced to undertake them. In 1933, the department decided to disperse propaganda against soil erosion and arranged a

197 Chief of the Native Commissioner, Western Areas: Assessment of Cattle Units in the Thaba Nchu District. February 1950. NASA , SAB , NTS 7526 717/327 Vol II . 198 Delius, Schirmer, Soil Conservation, 731. 199 T. L. Knoos, Secretary for Agriculture and Forestry, Minute to the Public Service Commission, 20. 6. 1935, NASA , SAB , Secretary of the Treasury (1904 – 1974) (TES ) 436 2/207/36, 1. 200 Union of South Africa, Department of Agriculture and Forestry, Circular no. 22, Regulations Governing the Anti-­Soil-­Erosion and Small-­Dam Schemes (Pretoria, Government Printer, 1937), 5, 6,15, NASA , SAB , TES 521/2/357 Vol. II .

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tour throughout the country with a series of lectures delivered by John Phillips.201 Moreover, the Department of Agriculture conducted a careful publicity campaign regarding farming opportunities and methods in South Africa. In the 1936 issue of the farming brochure ‘Farming Opportunities in the Union of South Africa’, Viljoen, Secretary for Agriculture and Forestry, points out in the preface that as a ‘farmer-­settler’ it is not possible to become wealthy quickly. However, with the aim of motivating Europeans to move to South Africa, he promises possible future settlers ‘satisfying effort and achievement’ and a ‘profitable and attractive mode to live’.202 In the 1940s there was a turn in conservation policies. The state was allowed to intervene directly in the farming methods of white farmers. After World War II , the government arranged to take part in an international process of reconstruction and emphasised the need for a new approach to many problems. Through this process, the welfare of all was to be advanced. A short-­term measure to implement new strategies of conservation was the Forest and Veld Conservation Act of 1941. It gave the state the power to proclaim so-­called Conservation Areas. In such regions, authorities could expropriate the most seriously eroded farms and ensure reclamation and conservation measures on the remaining farms.203 But the Act was seen as a last resort and was used very rarely. In general, soil conservation became a central component in long-­term reconstruction plans to protect the productivity of the white farming sector. Raising economic prosperity played an important role in this plan.204 Assumptions about declining fertility were linked to the wasteful nature of the whole South African farming sector. Commissioners demonstrated that in international competition, the per hectare yields of South African farmers as well as yields per person were lower. This stagnant economic sector received a great deal of state revenue, but this did not improve productivity. There was little indication that South African productivity was getting better.205

201 Union of South Africa, Department of Agriculture, Re. 2/357 to The Secretary for Finance, 7. 6. 1933, NASA , SAB , TES 525/2/357/7. 202 Union of South Africa, Department of Agriculture and Forestry, Farming Opportunities in the Union of South Africa (Pretoria: Government Printer, 1936), I, iii. 203 Union of South Africa, “The Forest and Veld Conservation Act (Act No. 13 of 1941)”. Together with Regulations, Proclamations and Government Notices Issued Thereunder. (Pretoria: Government Printer, 1943). 204 Delius, Schirmer, Soil Conservation, 732. 205 Union of South Africa, Social and Economic Planning Council, The Future of Farming in South Africa: Including Comments on the Report of the Reconstruction Committee of the Department of Agriculture and Forestry on the Reconstruction of Agriculture (Pretoria, Government Printer, 1945) 3.

Environmentalism, Planning of Spatial Segregation, and Early Betterment Schemes  |

Table 1.6: Yield in Quintal per Hectare

1933 – 34 1934 – 35 1935 – 36 1936 – 37 1937 – 38 1938 – 39 Maize Argentine Australia USA South Africa (Europeans only) Wheat United Kingdom Germany USA Argentine Australia South Africa (Europeans)

15.9 15.5 14.2 7

20.1 17.2 9.9 5.7

19.6 15.7 15.1 5.4

18.9 19.3 10.2 8.2

15 13.4 17.8 5.7

17.4 8.9

24.1 24.2 7.5 10.7 8 6.5

25.2 20.6 8.2 9.4 7.2 5.9

23.4 22.1 8.2 9.4 7.2 5.9

20.6 21.2 8.2 10.6 8.3 5.1

20.6 22.6 9.1 8.2 9.2 3.9

25.6 27.4 8.9 11.8 7.2 5.5

The Reconstruction Committee emphasised that the yield of Native agriculture was even lower, namely, yields of 2.8 per hectare in the Transkei from 1939 – 1942. Table 1.7: Cattle Products 1937 in thousand CWTS 206

Australia New Zealand South Africa (complete)

Cattle Nos. 13,078 4,506 11,407

Beef and Veal 11,025 339 287

Butter 2,853 3,358 413

Cheese 397 1,768 103

Table 1.8: Sheep Products 1937

Australia New Zealand South Africa (complete)

Sheep (thousands) Slaughtered 11,3373 18,536 32,379 18,920 41,033 5,000

Wool (1000000’s lbs greasy) 983 304 219

Source: Tables 1.6, 1.7, 1.8 adopted from: Union of South Africa, The Future of Farming in South Africa: Including Comments on the Report of the Reconstruction Committee of the Department of Agriculture and Forestry on the Reconstruction of Agriculture. Publ. By Authority. Social and Economic Planning Council, Union of South Africa (Pretoria: Government Printer, 1945).

206 1 CWTS (Cubic Weight Tons) = 0.05 Tons, 1,000 CWTS = 50 Tons

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The report also states some of the main weaknesses of Southern African agriculture. These include the state’s price-­assistance policy to increase European farm output; intensive cultivation; low vocational and educational standards; high levels of abusing veld and soil; and low farm product prices. As mentioned above, the situation of Native farming was worse. The main conclusions and recommendations of the council affected farming practices, subsidies, price policy, as well as land tenure. Education and propaganda were to be enforced. But the urgency of the soil erosion problem demanded more direct state action, especially in areas where the needed departmental services became available. Government subsidies would be conditional on farmers following prescribed farming plans and conservation practives. The council did not see any reason to change the prevailing system of land ownership. Opposing subsidies, the council argued against the earlier Viljoen report from 1943 on the ‘Reconstruction of Agriculture’, which argued that farmers were unable to implement soil conservation strategies because of poverty. The Viljoen report demanded more state assistance and no penalties for farmers using harmful practices.207 The determination to keep under-­resourced white farmers on the land through financial and practical support has been described by Peter Delius and Stefan Schirmer as an echo of American Jeffersonian agrarian ideas with a racial twist.208 It can also be compared to the aim of the Carnegie Commission to fight white poverty. State intervention put farmers under pressure to change inefficient practices as well as to adopt soil conservation practices. Policy recommendations in the 1940s endorsed the idea that soil conservation was a major challenge within the South African farming sector.209 The Department of Agriculture intensified film propaganda.210 In 1946 there were discussions about subsidising universities to undertake basic research on soil conservation and to support ecological and botanical research as well as the microbiological programme of Potchefstroom and Grey University College with financial assistance amounting to a total of £100,000. In the end, however, the proposal fell through.211 According to Delius and Schirmer, however, state intervention that could enforce fundamental changes in the white farming sector was weakened both by the department and by representatives of the farmers themselves. In general, 207 Union of South Africa, Future of Farming, 25, 27, 28. 208 Delius, Schirmer, Soil Conservation, 733. 209 Ibidem, 733. 210 Union of South Africa, Department of Agriculture, Re.20/247 to The Secretary for Finance, 2. 9. 1943 and following correspondence, NASA , SAB , TES 525 2/357/7. 211 Correspondence between Secretary of Agriculture and Secretary to Treasury, no. 2/327/8, March 1946 to January 1947, NASA , SAB , TES 525 2/357/8.

Conclusion  |

conservation was guided by racism rather than research. It was argued that white farmers were forced to denude the soil due to their economic circumstances. In contrast, in the case of black farmers, as mentioned above, only their culture and backwardness were considered to blame for their farm practices.212 A 1944 visit by the American soil conservation expert Hugh Benett was also used to keep white agricultural interests at the forefront. Benett allowed his visit to be manipulated and paid less attention to the Native Areas.213 The strategy of using soil conservation combined with politics, racism, and populism to benefit white farmers was reflected in the Soil Conservation Act of 1946. This Act was originally intended to encourage farmers to set up soil conservation committees for administering Soil Conservation Districts under the guidance of experts. But the Act was flexible. The committees had little power to enforce soil conservation. After 1948 the determination to enforce rules governing the actions of white farmers diminished.214

1.3 Conclusion In the case of South Africa, environmentalism and spatial planning can be regarded as two key elements in the implementation of a racially ordered society. The basis of further spatial engineering was rural European settlement, which had been of major political significance in the colonial and early post-­colonial periods. The asymmetrical division of land resources between blacks and whites, with the majority of land opened for European use, was a major political issue in South Africa as well as the entire sub-­continent.215 When South Africa gained independence in 1910, the European conquest of the land was more or less complete. But in order for the colonisers to gain political and legal control over the black majority of the country, an important issue was the legalisation of spatial segregation and the seizing of land that was still occupied by the Native population. Establishing a system to translate colonial politics into the ‘modern’ system of racial segregation that was later called Apartheid took place in the segregation years between 1910 and 1948. This process was implemented in different ways. The direct approach was the territorial and political disfranchisement of the Native population through legislation. The two Land Acts of 1913 and 1936 are the most significant examples 2 12 Delius, Schirmer, Soil Conservation, 734. 213 Dodson, Soil Conservation Safari, 49. 214 J. D. M. Keet, “Memorandum Regarding Conservation Legislation other than the Soil Conservation Act No. 45 of 1946, 82, 83”.NASA , Land Protection Board (1910 – 1963) (GBR ) S. C. B.441. Delius, Schirmer, Soil Conservation, 735, 736. 215 Christopher, Land Disposal Politics, 381.

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of segregation legislation. Regarding the 1913 Act, analysts have debated the nature of the political and economic forces that produced it, as well as its significance for land ownership at the time. Nevertheless, the consequences of this radical blueprint for white domination and black exclusion are still present across South Africa and the wider region today. The Act remains a key reference point for land reform programmes in South Africa as the country has struggled to address its complex legacy. The attempt to implement the Natives Land Act provides a historical marker for identifying land dispossession that qualifies for restitution. The consequences of the Act and related legislation further underscore the need for a comprehensive programme of land redistribution and tenure reform to redress the deep spatial, economic, and political consequences of segregation and Apartheid.216 Another important and more complex point was the rise of conservation policies being used to implement a segregated society by forced settlement. Environmental changes and the imperial impacts of the emergence of ecology as a scientific discipline encouraged efforts on the part of the government to displace black people. To explain the interrelationship between the racist attitude of the South African Union and the concern about environmental problems and especially soil erosion, it is necessary to analyse a range of factors. One connection of the two segregation elements of legislation and conservation policies is the settlement and village planning of the Native Reserves. Despite the different land tenure systems among the black population, designated areas were pressed into a uniform settlement pattern. This planning was systematised after 1955 with the report of the Tomlinson Commission. Awareness of environmental change ran through South African society. After the 1920s both white and black rural populations were confronted with its consequences and the need for state intervention. The desire for conservationist activities was also an economic one: the guarantee of agricultural production by the protection of the veld and natural resources.217 It seems obvious and has become clear in recent studies that the land degradation issue in South Africa had its principal causes in land use and unequal land disposal. To promote the idea that the creation of a “white” land and segregation policies were compatible with conservation required a strong ideology and a hegemonic political narrative. The early ideological structure was formed for example by Jan Smuts in collaboration with early ecologists like Bews and Phillips. Different soil conservation programmes in black and white rural areas were instrumentalised to achieve a racially ordered society, later called Grand Apartheid. 2 16 De Satgé, Synthesis Report Land Divided, 4. 217 Beinart, Rise of Conservation, 367.

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2. A ‘Modern’ Racially Ordered State – Social and Spatial Engineering, Crisis, and Collapse

2.0 Introduction Apartheid was officially instituted on 26 May 1948, when the National Party (NP ) came to power after a period of political and economic crises. It was the stringent successor to segregation.218 The electoral victory of the Herenigde Nasionale Party (HNP  – ‘Reunited National Party’) marked the beginning of a new era in South Africa. Daniel Francoise Malan’s coalition government was not only the first bilingual government consisting of only Afrikaners, but also the first one not to consist mainly of military strategists. Until these elections, the politics of the South African War and the compromises of the Union had shaped South Africa. The ‘age of the generals’ was over and that of ideologues and technocrats had begun, also called the ‘age of the social engineers’.219 Apartheid was deeply ingrained in citizens’ public and private lives. It is thus a vital component for understanding this period. Beinart has pointed out that it gave the South African society a distinctive profile and a ‘long shadow’. Although segregationist attitudes in earlier decades may have been more rigorous than in many other British colonies, they were not vastly different. Apartheid, in contrast, was a more intensive technocratic system. In an era of decolonization and majority rule, it was an increasingly jarring state of affairs. This not only had to do with the fact that Apartheid was an authoritarian regime; it also had to do with the fact that it rejected any sort of all-­embracing nationalism and enshrined racial distinctions at the core of its legislative programme and political projects.220 This chapter will trace the complex pattern of social engineering in South Africa during the era of Apartheid, especially spatial planning and ethnic categorization, by opening with a historical overview of the new government’s main agenda items: the suppression of the African opposition, the reservation of well-­paid jobs for Europeans, and prosperity for white people. The strategy for reaching these goals consisted of a range of new legislation as well as the systematic control and administration of Natives.

218 Evans, Bureaucracy and Race, ix. 219 Davenport, South Africa, 327. 220 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 143, 144.

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The first part of the following describes territorial and social planning from 1948, after the electoral victory of the NP , until the end of the 1950s. In the 1950s, there was a new thrust toward radicalisation visible in the territorialisation of racial segregation. There was a turning point in Native policies after the 1955 report of the Tomlinson Commission that recommended former Native Reserves being changed into ‘Homelands’ or ‘Bantustans’. These artificial constructions, designed to separate the African population from those of European descendant, were intended to strengthen the white national state. Such areas were called ‘nations’ during Grand Apartheid in the 1960s and 1970s.221 A review of engineering Apartheid, on both a macro and micro level, is essential to the following argument. On the macro level, this study investigates political and social developments, with a focus on rural areas. Although the Apartheid government rejected the main suggestions of the Tomlinson Commission’s report, it is crucial in this context, since the government nevertheless instituted settlement schemes and conservation measures based on the report. This study also explores the Native Administration in South Africa and the tangible shift to bureaucratisation of the same, focusing on tribal roots and ethnic categorisation, an important factor in the ideological background of Apartheid society. A cross-­section of case studies representative of all provinces in South Africa held at the National Archives of South Africa reveal that there was a gap between comprehensive spatial planning and the often-­arbitrary implementation of settlement schemes. This gap permits an exploration of the impact of Betterment on land tenure and the population’s different reactions to it. Existing scholarship provides many case studies regarding Betterment planning, but there are none offering such inter-­provincial comparisons. The second part of the chapter will deal with the Homeland policy from 1955 through the 1980s. This era of Grand Apartheid provides some of the most visible examples of social and spatial engineering. The focus here is on establishing the biases in territorial planning and an ethnic categorisation in the patterns of social engineering, as well as providing an overview of the structure of the Bantustans and the legislative measures accompanying the process of their gaining formal independence. A first clash between spatial and ethnic engineering is visible in the African population being divided into ethnic units without any territorial reference, and in the assigned Bantu Authorities. In the 1970s, territorial consolidation processes and territorial shifts were strongly connected to ethnic categorisation and population engineering. This was done in favour of a higher

221 Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 173, 174.

Social Engineers at Work  |

proportion of the white population. Then will be presented the consequences of this spatial and ethnic consolidation project, forced resettlement, and the ejection of over 3.5 million African people. After describing numbers and forms of forced resettlement, I will introduce single case studies of forced removals, changing resettlement schemes, and reactions of the population.

2.1 Social Engineers at Work 2.1.1 Implementing Apartheid

The government under Dr Malan was South Africa’s first bilingual government and the first to consist only of Afrikaners. With the new government, politics as well as daily life changed in many ways. The coalition government introduced the philosophy of Apartheid as the nation’s new guiding principle. The intention was to create a white Christian national state. Malan’s government immediately differed in its enforcement of racial segregation by implementing the guidelines of Apartheid ideology. This shift focused international attention on South African politics. Separation was to be introduced at all interpersonal levels.222 In many points, Malan’s now reunited (herenigde) National Party built its policy on the foundation of the segregationist legacy laid by Kruger, Shepstone, Hertzog, and Smuts. However, the Nationalist government introduced new elements, meeting new challenges with a tighter set of racial policies. Although Malan was committed to the parliamentary process based on a white franchise, the Nationalists stretched the system to its limits. While Jan Smuts had been disposed to compromise, the new rulers of South Africa pursued their goals with a self-­righteous conviction.223 According to Hermann Giliomee, the struggle was not solely to ensure white domination, but included a power grapple to decide which group of whites would dominate. Malan did not only offset black versus white, but also the rivalry between the Afrikaner and English community. Many Afrikaners felt under-­ represented and economically victimised by ‘their’ country. When the NP came to power most Afrikaners were occupied in manual labour or farming. Afrikaners made up 57 per cent of the white population with 29 per cent share of the total income. The remaining 43 per cent of the white population, English-­speaking, held 46 per cent of the total personal income. And the African majority, form2 22 A. J. Christopher, “The Atlas of Apartheid”. (London, New York: Routledge, 1994), 65. 223 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 143.

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ing 68 per cent of the population, shared only 20 per cent.224 Afrikaners, the descendants of the Dutch colonial powers, had felt threatened throughout South Africa’s colonisation history. Originally, they feared the unsecured frontiers and the majority of non-­whites, later, the British government and colonial settlers. Modern Afrikanerdom, the conscious recognition of Afrikaner ideology, was a reaction to British imperial policy in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The Anglo-­Boer War, more than any other single factor, gave rise to so-­called Afrikaner ideology and infused it with purpose and determination. During the Union era between 1910 and 1948, Afrikaner nationalism became a coordinated countrywide movement resulting in the establishment of the National Party under Botha and Hertzog. The 1948 election victory for Afrikaner Nationalism was rooted in its promise to secure the safety of whites using a policy called Apartheid, which implied white domination. René de Villiers has pointed out that this initially appealed to Afrikaners, but soon came to include all white people, who should stand together against ‘blackness’.225 Later the term black was also appropriated politically by Apartheid’s opposition, the black consciousness movement. In the early phases of Apartheid, tribalisation or Bantuisation aided the government in dividing the African population into individual Bantu tribes. There was little difference between Afrikaners and English-­speakers in their support of white supremacy and residential segregation. However, English ‘opinion-formers’ – theorists as well as political leaders – constantly tried to distance themselves from the racial policy of Afrikaner parties because of the crude ways they expressed racism. Although whites united in their commitment to white dominance, the two white communities remained divided about how a white nation was to be built. The South African Citizenship Bill of 1949 also addressed the disputes of the two white groups with regard to their affiliation with the Commonwealth, establishing citizenship as primarily South African and thereby making immigration from other Commonwealth countries more difficult. Previously, citizens of all Commonwealth nations had enjoyed a common status. English-­speakers thought it in their own interests to strengthen relations with other Commonwealth countries. Afrikaners, however, stressed that their independence was vital to being self-­sufficient in their home nation. In 1950, the government began to remove symbols of the historic British dominance, first by abolishing British citizenship. In 1961 the British currency was replaced and the 2 24 Giliomee, The Afrikaners, 489. 225 René de Villiers, “Afrikaner Nationalism”. Monica Wilson, Leonard Monteath Thompson (eds.), “The Oxford History of South Africa”. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971), 365 – 416, 365, 367, 370, 374.

Social Engineers at Work  |

country withdrew from the Commonwealth, as other Commonwealth countries had started to view Apartheid as inacceptable.226 The country developed into a medium-­sized industrial power, with a large number of domestic manufacturing industries, although colonial commodities and raw materials continued to dominate South African exports. In earlier times, ox-­wagons had given South Africa an enormous advantage in its transport network over the rest of Africa. In the 20th century, the quickly improving infrastructure, including the development of road, rail, telecommunications, and air systems, distinguished the country from its neighbours on the continent. The Nationalists liked to think of South Africa as a conservative yet modern, industrial, and capitalist nation. The government did not acknowledge that a large part of the population did not share these benefits.227 Malan, according to William Beinart the ‘architect of revived Afrikanerdom’, was driven by the Cape’s political interests. He was concerned with preserving the Afrikaner identity and culture. His commitment to segregate ‘coloured’ people in the Cape set the first parameters for Apartheid and resulted in acute political tensions during his period of office. Apartheid as a concept has been increasingly associated with Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd, who Malan was pressured to appoint as Minister of Native Affairs in 1950.228 Verwoerd expounded a long-­term policy to deal with ‘the Native Question’ by 1952. The atmosphere at the Native Affairs Department changed and its pace increased. Seeing the capacity for social change, Verwoerd imagined the total separation of the white and black inhabitants of South Africa as a target to be reached within twenty years. As Apartheid ideology took hold, he became its leading advocate.229 Verwoerd became prime minister in 1958, succeeding the skilled populist speaker J. G. Strydom (1954 – 1958). Verwoerd revolutionised racial policies, racial rhetoric, and bureaucracy. His concept of self-­governing Homelands was conservative. It was his government that abolished African political representatives in parliament. This made it necessary to offer alternatives. The members of the South African Bureau of Racial Affairs (SABRA ) had been lobbying for the independence of some Reserves. Verwoerd presented Apartheid as a form of decolonisation, extending increasing rights and responsibilities to Africans in the Reserves. He held up the Apartheid solution as morally superior to the option of

2 26 Giliomee, Afrikaners, 492, 493, 494. 227 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 145. 228 Ibidem, 146. 229 Davenport, South Africa, 337, 339, 340.

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integration.230 In 1957, the Union Jack and ‘God Save the Queen’ were eliminated from official ceremonies. After separating from British citizenship, through the 1950s South Africa’s relationship with Britain was renegotiated, affecting shipping rights, trade, and the Simonstown naval base. In 1960, the new decimal currency of Rands and cents replaced the sterling. In the same year, Verwoerd held a referendum on the long-­promised republic, which the Nationalists won.231 Internal opposition in the National Party was neutralized in 1961 and Verwoerd managed to redefine South Africa’s international position. The implementation of Apartheid, which dominated political actions and race relations after 1948, was characterised by controlling social change in the interests of the white population. It did so by establishing the change as being fully constitutional, equating unconstitutional change with communism and rendering it illegal, eradicating most interracial relationships based on equality, fragmenting the African population, raising barriers between Africans, Coloureds, and Indians, indoctrinating the population into the ideology of Apartheid, and finally, developing effective instruments of oppression. The structure of parliamentary rule secured an almost complete monopoly of constitutional power for the National Party by removing all non-­white affairs. Non-­white affairs shifted from politics to administration. Parliamentary representation for Africans was abolished, as were Indian’s rights to representation. The Native Affairs Department, renamed as the Department of Bantu Administration and Development (DBAD ) in 1958, and its separate sub-­departments for Coloured affairs and Indian affairs, experienced an extension of their centralized administrative control, which was granted by a series of laws regulating human relations. The segregation of Blacks, Coloureds and Indians fragmented interracial opposition.232 The electoral victory in 1948 marked the beginning of a racial autocracy. Though Nationalists took the institution of parliament seriously, checks and balances in the judiciary and the civil service were pushed aside. Criticism by the opposition and mass protests had no effect. Many commentators were seduced by the Afrikaners’ preoccupation with ethnic concerns about volk and the obsessive ideology of race. The Nationalists had succeeded in taking command of a complex system and began to develop a modern technocratic, capitalist state.233 2 30 Giliomee, Afrikaners, 519, 520, 522, 531. 231 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 168. 232 Leo Kupfer, “African Nationalism in South Africa 1910 – 1964”. Monica Wilson, Leonard Monteath Thompson (eds.), “The Oxford History of South Africa”. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971), 424 – 475: 459, 460. 233 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 169.

Social Engineers at Work  |

2.1.2 Territorial Planning: The Tomlinson Commission, Homeland Policy, and Betterment

Spatial division, a central piece in the complex puzzle of social engineering, was linked to a labour protection policy for whites. Apartheid planners saw it as essential to translate into policy connections between protecting white workers from competition and controlling African movement into the cities. Legislation in 1956 and 1959 reserved a far wider range of jobs for whites in both the private and public sector: Africans could be barred from skilled work in the clothing industry or prevented from becoming traffic police officers. Black workers were forbidden to have authority over whites. Trade Unions with white and coloured workers had to offer separate black and white branches with a white executive. Academics have often noted that the maintenance of the migrant labour system was an impetus for complete territorial segregation in the 1970s. Migrant labour, for example, as Harold Wolpe has argued, provided cheap work for the mining industry, because employers did not have to pay wages that would support an urban family. The Apartheid government hoped to increase advantages for employers in the growing manufacturing sector. They wished to restore the crumbling economies of the African Reserves, but tight ‘influx’ controls were designed to check urban growth and inhibit the development of a black urban working class. The industrial decentralisation of factories to areas near the African Reserves was planned to take the pressure off labour requirements in the big cities. An extension of the migrant workforce would also help protect white workers.234 This development might also serve as an example of the connection between racism and classism. High-­qualified, well-­paid jobs were saved for a white urban population. Cheap industrial work was decentralised into the African Reserves. Blacks who still worked in the cities were forced into migrant labour by means of territorial segregation and influx control. However, these plans did not work. The state faced a dilemma, soon realizing that migrant labour inhibited productivity and low wages constrained the growth of an internal market. The bulk of the national industry, many of them small enterprises, were not geared towards working with migrants. Yet the main industrial areas – the Rand, Durban, Cape Town, and Port Elizabeth – were those that the government wanted to protect from further African urbanization. The number of women and black families in these cities kept rising. Scholars who have examined the government’s response to these problems do not see Apartheid as simply an extension 234 Harold Wolpe, “Capitalism and Cheap Labour-­Lower in South Africa: From Segregation to Apartheid, Economy and Society”. 1, 4 (1972), 425 – 456: 432, 444, 447.

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of the migrant labour system and industrial decentralisation. Apartheid planners developed a more compromised policy to minimise African urban influx and separate Africans into special rural areas. In a so-­called labour differentiation strategy, Africans had to show that they were ‘qualified’ to gain entrance to the cities. They had to show either that they (1) had been born in the city, (2) had worked continuously for one city employer for ten years, or (3) had lived in the city for fifteen years. Spouses, unmarried daughters, and sons under 18 could also qualify. Those rural-­urban migrant workers who did not qualify could be ‘endorsed out’; those who did qualify had the possibility to receive preferential access to housing, services, and employment. Thus, Apartheid policy in its earlier years was partly intended to ensure that many African workers remained migrants. ‘Labour differentiation’ helped to establish a new minority class of urban Africans, who enjoyed relatively secure rights as families.235 According to William Beinart, influx control had limited effect on influencing the growth rate of the African urban population. Between 1936 and 1946, the annual average increase was 3.4 per cent. Between 1946 and 1951, the rate averaged 6.6 per cent per annum. From 1951 to 1960, it came in at 4.5 per cent annually. Despite the measures that had been taken, the pace of urban growth was faster than under previous governments. The number of Africans in urban areas increased from 2.3 million to 3.4 million in the 1950s, from 27 to 32 per cent of the total African population.236 Statistical data prior to 1996 is to be approached with caution, however, as the authors of Post-­Apartheid Patterns of Internal Migration in South Africa have concluded. In concordance with Beinart and referring to the levels of urban organisation in South Africa, they have discovered it quite difficult to define the limits of an urban region. In most South African censuses, urban area was based exclusively on a de jure requirement that was often not consistent with the developing urbanization in the country. In particular, townships were often not regarded in the censuses. Using the same data as Beinart, the authors have decided that these settlement patterns were strongly influenced by ‘influx’ control and segregation policies. The proportion of the African majority in urban areas was lower than the non-­African minority.237

2 35 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 157, 158 236 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 159. 237 Pieter Kok, Michael O’Donovan, Oumar Bouare, Johan van Zyl, “Post-­Apartheid Patterns of Internal Migration in South Africa”. (Cape Town: HRSC , 2003), 34.

Social Engineers at Work  |

Table 2.1: Percentage of Population in Urban Areas

Year 1911 1921 1936 1946 1951 1960 1970 1980

White 52 60 68 75 78 84 87 88

Coloured 50 52 57 61 65 68 74 75

Asian 53 61 71 71 78 83 87 91

African 13 16 21 23 27 32 33 49

Total 25 28 32 38 43 47 48 53

Figures from 1960, 1970, and 1980 censuses, https://www.datafirst.uct.ac.za/dataportal , accessed 7. 11. 2016; William Beinart, “Twentieth Century South Africa” (Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 1994) 355; Pieter Kok, Michael O’Donovan, Oumar Bouare, Johan van Zyl, “Post-­Apartheid Patterns of Internal Migration in South Africa” (Cape Town: HRSC, 2003), 34.

In the long term, the Nationalists aimed to locate African population growth, unemployment, state expenditures, and education to the Reserves.238 Territorial separation became a central part of Apartheid policy in the 1950s, beginning with policies such as the Bantu Authorities Act in 1951. This Act established national and regional administrative structures and began the process of further fragmenting the black population into distinct ‘ethnic’ groups. The reorganisation of space continued further in 1959 with the Promotion of Bantu Self-­Government Act, which provided the legal framework for separating ‘black spaces’ from ‘white spaces’ across South Africa. The Tomlinson Commission established a set of policy directions to propel these areas towards a ‘separate’ existence.239 This all-­embracing commission was part of the constructive plan of establishing Apartheid, working with the backing of legal policy. The Tomlinson Commission, led by Professor F. R. Tomlinson, investigated the condition of the Native Reserves during the early 1950s. The report was concerned with creating ‘viable’ Homelands and preventing Africans’ settlement in the cities. The Tomlinson Commission had two main objectives: generating a comprehensive scheme for the rehabilitation of the Reserves, and developing a social structure amenable to the culture of the Natives.240 This plan was essentially different from the existing rehabilitation programme in the Betterment Areas, which guaranteed a very low level of uniformity and gave as

2 38 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 159. 239 McCusker, Ramudzuli, Apartheid Spatial Engineering, 59. 240 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, xviii.

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many Africans as possible a meagre claim to land.241 The Tomlinson Commission, as well as the earlier Report No. 9 of the Social and Economic Planning Council,242 recommended a re-­allocation of land and a revision of the communal land-­tenure system. To counter insufficient homestead production, only Africans with an interest in earning a livelihood from farming were to be entitled to an arable allotment to counter insufficient homestead production. This in turn compelled male household members to migrate to towns, while they retained their landholdings. This measure was intended to help stabilize a sound agricultural system in the Reserves. The Tomlinson Commission attempted to determine the size of such arable allotments. A farm unit should produce an average annual gross income of £57 to support Africans as full-­time farmers. The amount of land regarded as necessary to provide this income in different agricultural zones was defined as an ‘Economic Farming Unit’ (EFU ) or ‘Vollebestaansboerderyeenheid’.243 The Tomlinson Commission recommended creating an agricultural class of African full-­time farmers living on land that was sold under title deeds. The Commission was aware of the fact that in the existing areas, this farming group would be relatively small. According to their calculations, the Native Areas from the status of 1951 could carry only 51 per cent of the existing Black population. With the addition of land under the 1936 Land Act, the Reserves could carry approximately 357,000 families (i. e. 2,142,000 people), instead of 307,000 families. The members of the Tomlinson Commission calculated a size of farm unit as between 105 and 120 acres of land per family, depending on the manner of farming. Approximately half of the population would have to make a living in other economic spheres.244 There are no suggestions regarding where these surplus people should live. The work of the Tomlinson Commission was guided by Afrikaans ideology, proposing the relocation of over 80 per cent of the population to just 13 per cent of the country’s space. In 1950, the Reserve areas already accommodated 40 per cent of the African population. According to Tomlinson’s calculations, in 1951 there was a (rural) overpopulation of almost 50 per cent. Relocating even more people, however, would surely cause a system breakdown. It is obvious that the NP government aimed to guarantee long-­term security and stability for the white 241 Fred T. Hendricks, “The Pillars of Apartheid: Land Tenure, Rural Planning and the Chieftancy”, Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis: Studia Sociologica Upsaliensia 32”. (Uppsala: Academiae Ubsaliensis, 1990), 127. 242 Union of South Africa, “Report No. 9 of the Social and Economic Planning Council”. U. G.32/​ 1946. (Pretoria: Government Printer, 1946). 243 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 112, 113, 114. Hendricks, Pillars of Apartheid, 127. 244 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 114.

Social Engineers at Work  |

population. The existing Reserves provided a partly worked-­out answer to the problem, by removing Africans from white living spaces and as a result, also from political and economic power. The development of the Reserves into independent Homelands or Bantustans was essential to Apartheid, even if the government did not develop African alternatives akin to the options white people had.245 The plan to grant land under an individual title deed deviated from the limiting conditions of the government’s scope in conducting the inquiry. The government did accept the creation of Economic Farm Units and a division of the population in general. Nevertheless, the recommendations could not be implemented in practice because they depended on a change in the system of land tenure.246 The government proceeded by consolidating the Reserves and land trusts into larger areas. The above-­mentioned Promotion of Bantu Self-­Government Act permitted the African population to form separate national units. Considerable executive power was thereby decentralised, creating so-­called Territorial Authorities in each national unit. These national units were meant to form large blocks, strategically placed, that isolated African holdings. The authorities expected to have six sections per nation state, as the total areas of these ‘new states’ could not exceed 17 million hectares, as specified in the 1936 Land Act.247 The government recognized the economic and ecological decline of the Reserves, which needed to be prevented were the Reserves to maintain African living. The Nationalists therefore took over the system of Betterment planning rehabilitation processes after the introduction of the ‘New Era of Reclamation’ was slow. By 1953 only 2.3 per cent of the scheduled areas (Reserves) had been fully stabilised; another 4.6 per cent saw partial restructuring.248 This result shows that in the initial phase, both segregation policy and Apartheid policy failed to effect ecological stabilisation and agricultural efficiency. It also shows, however, the underlying motive of social engineering by the planners of Apartheid: it was not ecology that was supposed to be planned, but rather these projects to separate the two races were meant to maintain the power structure. Spatial planning and resettlements were supposed to preserve white supremacy and white exclusivity in the form of a white South Africa.

245 Platzky, Walker, Surplus People, 36, 37, 111. 246 Hendricks, Pillars of Apartheid, 127. 247 Platzky, Surplus People, 112, 113. Christopher, Atlas of Apartheid, 73. 248 Ibidem, 111. Hendricks, Pillars of Apartheid, 134. Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 76.

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Table 2.2: Analysis of Soil Conservation Works Completed by the End of 1952 According to the Tomlinson Commission

Areas Total Bantu Areas Released Areas Scheduled Areas Total Bantu Areas Northern Areas Released Areas Scheduled Areas Total Natal Released Areas Scheduled Areas Total Transkei Released Areas Scheduled Areas Total Ciskei Released Areas Scheduled Areas Total Western Areas Released Areas Scheduled Areas Total

Total Extent Morgen

Percentage

Total Area Stabilised Morgen Percentage

4,700,000 11,650,000 16,350,000

29 71 100

1,085,000 447,000 1,532,000

23 3.8 9.4

2,800,000 1,500,000

65 35 100

489,000 68,100 5,57,100

17 4.5 13

154,000 3,172,000 3,326,000

4.6 95.4 100

63,000 116,800 179,800

41 3.7 5.4

143,000 4,064,000 4,207,000

3.4 96.6 100

140,000 113,000 253,000

98 2.8 6

83,000 885,000 968,000

8.5 91.5 100

51,000 25,700 767,000

62 2.9 7.9

1,500,000 2,000,000 3,500,000

42.5 57.5 100

333,000 157,000 490,000

22 7.8 14

Source: Union of South Africa, Summary of the Report of the Commission for the Socio-­Economic Development of the Bantu Areas within the Union of South Africa. U. G. 61/1955 (Pretoria: Government Printer, 1955), 75.249

The African Reserves and later Homelands as relocation regions for the African population were a key to forming the white settler state. The process of Homeland consolidation was complicated, and even at the end of the Apartheid regime it was incomplete. In addition to the impossibility of the relocating efforts, major 249 Released Area: Land required by the SANT according to the 1936 Land Act; Scheduled Area: Existing Reserves designated via Land Act 1913.

Social Engineers at Work  |

problems were caused by the various ethnic groups, which caused friction in certain areas. The following analyses the development of the Native Administration to provide an overview of legacy and bureaucratic structures. The change of nomenclature with regard to the Native/Bantu/Black Administrations demonstrates a linguistic and mental shift. The early processes of village planning under the Betterment Schemes were an important aspect of this phase of Apartheid, and, varying from region to region, show both the strengths and weaknesses of the Betterment programme by comparing areas side by side. 2.1.3 Development of Native Administration

The Department of Native Affairs became central to the formulation and implementation of South African policy in the 1950s and 1960s. Bureaucratic accomplishments and contradictions in Native Administration gave substance to the Apartheid project. The South African government reoriented itself to expand the achievement of Native Administration officers in the 1950s, establishing authoritarian structures controlled by an army of clerks, bureaucrats, and administrators. According to Evans, the hypertrophy of the Apartheid state had its foundations in the development of Native Administration. The transformation of the Department of Native Affairs into a ‘state within a state’ was closely linked to the work of Verwoerd. The DNA was responsible for designing some of the most onerous assaults on the liberty of the African population.250 Three institutions were particularly important for the state’s development: the labour bureau system, designed to allocate African workers across the economic centres by stringently controlling their mobility; ‘planned locations’, which segregated residential areas for working-­class Africans in the urban areas; and the so-­called Bantustans, the former Native Reserves.251 The problems addressed in the previous chapter with regard to the different administrative structures in the provinces as well as the lack of communication and organisation still existed after the election of the National Party in 1948. Three years later, the government passed the Bantu Authorities Act, subsequently renamed the Black Authorities Act.252 The Act established Bantu Authorities, chosen by the government, and defined their functions, eliminating the need for a Natives

2 50 Evans, Bureaucracy and Race, 1, 2, 3. 251 Ibidem. 252 The Act was amended by Act 102/1978, substituting the word ‘Bantu’ with the word ‘Black.’

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Representative Council.253 The legislation aimed at restructuring the government of the Reserves along more traditional lines. In practice, it meant establishing a system of indirect rule through the medium of subservient African Chiefs, who were chosen to enforce government policy.254 They established an administrative system closely linked to the state and its regional representatives. Tribal chieftains were placed in charge of local administrations. The function of the local chiefs as agents of social control, already accommodated by the Union government, was now institutionalised by Apartheid policy.255 The departments’ control over the Native Areas was one of the most notable features of government in the Reserves. The system included white officials as well as a small group of blacks. On the one hand, state policy condensed the power of the central state into the hands of local white Native Commissioners, who oversaw and thus controlled the Africans in the Reserves. On the other hand, it included a number of blacks as safeguards of state interests, giving them positions like local chiefs or headmen. The Bantu Authorities Act provided the definition, establishment, and constitution of Tribal, Regional and Territorial Bantu Authorities, as well as the powers, functions, and duties of Tribal and Regional Bantu Authorities. The term Chief referred to a person who was appointed by the tribe and recognised by the responsible commissioners. A so-­called Councillor was a person recognised or appointed as a member of a Tribal Authority. The above-­mentioned Headmen were also officially appointed persons of the tribe responsible for organisation and control in African villages. The Regional Authority, Territorial Authority, and Tribal Authority were Bantu Authorities established under the legislation of the South African state and its Governor-­General. The Regional or Territorial Authority consisted of a Chairman and as many members as the Governor-­General designated. All members of the Regional or Territorial Authority were to be elected by regulation standards from amongst the Chiefs, Headmen, and Councillors, persons recognised as members of a Tribal Authority. However, the Minister of Native Affairs had the authority to veto any appointment. A Regional Authority had only an advisory function, but had to implement decisions made by the responsible department. They oversaw, for example, educational institutions, the construction of infrastructure, the maintenance of land and livestock, and the 253 Union of South Africa, “Bantu Authorities Act, Act No. 68 of 1951”. (Pretoria: Government Printer,1951), Digital Innovation South Africa, Legislation and Race Relations, http:// www.aluka.org/stable/10.5555/AL .SFF .DOCUMENT .leg19510615.028.020.068, accessed 24. 10. 2016 254 Davenport, South Africa, 383. 255 Hendricks, Pillars of Apartheid, 54.

Social Engineers at Work  |

overall improvement of farming and agriculture. A Regional Authority also had the power to acquire and hold land or any interest in land as was necessary to fulfil its functions.256 Apartheid policy interconnected the remnants of local chieftaincy with social control, enlisting local African chiefs for regional policing. This legislation seems to have aimed at focusing African consciousness on a fictitious tribalism, romanticising the African rural past and nurturing the notion of African Homelands. This was central to Apartheid. Africans were to develop ‘along their own lines’, which meant not just a separation of black and white, but also distinct ‘tribal’ groups, each with a Paramount Chief at the top and Tribal Authorities at the base. This pyramid structure was hastily implemented in the Reserves. There were many difficulties, especially in the Transkei, where the local Native Administration Department had a broad presence, including a system of magistrates as described in the first chapter above.257 The official language changed in the 1950s and 1960s, and again in the 1980s. Terminology used in archival records and legislative Acts began to exchange the term Native for Bantu. In 1955, the whole Department of Native Administration was reorganized into two separate entities, these called the Department of Bantu Administration and Development and the Department of Bantu Education (DBE , subsequently the Department of Education and Training).258 Even though there was no official statement regarding this reorganization and renaming, it makes certain political developments apparent. The term Bantu had replaced the colonial term Native; the implementation of Tribal Authorities with appropriate official titles was a result of the political aim of tribal management propagated by the South African government. Ann Laura Stoler has argued that colonial administrations were ‘prolific producers of social categories’. Epistemic descriptions of these social categories were developed and based on documentation. Such systems of written accountability need an elaborate infrastructure. This need can also to be seen in the highly bureaucratic machine built up by the Apartheid government. According to Stoler, colonial commissions like the South African Native Affairs Commission (NAC ) were part of a technology of state practice that ‘spanned the imperial globe’. They offered promises of public accountability equal to those heard in international colonial conferences. Key features of social technology were bio-­political assessments of differential racial capabilities and characteristics. Racial differentiations, 2 56 Union of South Africa, Bantu Authorities Act. 257 Hendricks, Pillars of Apartheid, 54, 55, 56, 58. 258 Christopher, Atlas of Apartheid, 52

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based on the assumption of European supremacy, enabled the commissions to link domestic relationships to the security of the state. Nevertheless, delineating rules of classification is a disorderly process.259 Deborah Posel has stated that biology and culture marked the formulation and enactment of race definitions under Apartheid. Leading architects of the Apartheid system explicitly recognised race as a construct, with cultural, social, and economic dimensions. Race was a judgement about ‘social standing’, made on the strength of prevailing social conventions about difference.260 The official shift from the term Native to Bantu was not without challenge, but it followed the transition of colonial and early post-­ colonial South Africa to a racially ordered technocratic state. Bantu, the various tribes, and ethnic categorizations like Coloureds and Indians represent a language of ‘technical’ racism that embodied nearly every aspect of public and private life. A strong propaganda machine accompanied the development of the Bantu Administration. The magazine Bantu, an informal publication of the Department of Bantu Administration and Development, employed a few African writers. In September 1959, A. J. Rasebotsa wrote a kind of jubilee article about the importance of Bantu Authorities and Tribal Management. Although it had been noticed by very few Africans, the Bantu Authorities Act was, in his opinion, without regarding the different tribes and their individual forms of organisation, the ‘traditional democratic law of the past’. Tribes accepting the Act immediately would find ‘sound footing’.261

2.2 Village Planning and Betterment Schemes Segregation and Betterment appeared well structured, but were unpredictable and arbitrary in practice.262 The implementation of Betterment shows that much more Betterment work was done on Trust farms (released areas) than in the Reserves (scheduled areas). Implementation was uneven and progress differed according to region. On Trust farmland in the Transkei and Ciskei, Betterment work was practically completed; in the scheduled areas in those regions, however, only 2.8 and 2.9 per cent, respectively, of the Betterment Areas were stabilised. In the 259 Ann Laura Stoler, “Along the Archival Grain: Epistemic Anxieties and Colonial Common Sense”. (Princeton, Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2010), 1, 3, 29, 30, 31. 260 Deborah Posel, “Race as Common Sense: Racial Classification in Twentieth-­Century South Africa”. African Studies Review 44 (2) (2001), 87 – 113: 90. 261 A. J. Rasebotsa, “Bantu Authorities and Tribal Management”. Bantoe/Bantu 9 (1959), 40 – 42: 40. 262 Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 191.

Village Planning and Betterment Schemes  |

Northern and Western Areas as well as in Natal, the proportion of the scheduled areas that had been stabilised was alarmingly small.263 The Tomlinson Commission warned of the consequences of delay. The Nationalist government answered by adopting a new policy aimed at relating the rehabilitation of the soil to the social and economic development of the African people. Africans were expected to assume a larger measure of responsibility for their own affairs and to participate in their ‘own’ development. Tomlinson’s principle of Economic Farming Units was ignored and relegated to secondary importance, although it continued to play an important ideological role. ‘Retribalisation’ was given precedence over establishing a viable farming class. Land allocation in the Reserves inhibited the creation of Economic Farming Units, however, because of the limited amount of land available to the African population. Local chiefs and headmen in the Reserves favoured the equal division of land. The South African government refused to tamper with communal tenure, but tried to modernise it by bolstering Tribal Authorities. Existing landholders were dispossessed by the equalisation of holdings and the redistribution of allotments in newly defined arable sites. A three-­stage development plan replaced the rehabilitation of the limited Betterment Areas: stabilisation, reclamation, and rehabilitation.264 Regarding Betterment, it is difficult to see that the government was systematic in its implementation of change. Archival records give a more or less complete overview of the declaration of Betterment Areas and the implementation of soil conservation measures. Archival materials from different regions show a trend whereby Betterment Areas were declared based on Proclamation 116 in 1949, which empowered the Department of Native Affairs to stabilise and reclaim ‘land in question’ within these areas. Analysing the archival material concerning Homeland consolidation and Betterment planning presents substantial problems. The sheer amount of archival material is daunting, but at the same time it is very often fragmented and rarely offers cohesive information. The search aids that are available were often unreliable, resulting in a rather random process of information selection, and, unfortunately, incomplete data for a number of the case studies. Precise maps and geographic information are often missing from South African archives, especially from the 1950s and 1960s. It is therefore sometimes unclear where particular Betterment Areas were situated. Given this lack of reliable data, it is difficult to separate the actual state of affairs from the proposed consolidation. The case studies here are 263 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 75. See also table 2.2. 264 Hendricks, Pillars of Apartheid, 128, 131, 134. Govan Mbeki, “South Africa: The Peasant Revolt”. (Harmond: Penguin Books, 1964), 68.

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therefore organised according to provinces or Reserves, followed by the name of the district and the name of the Betterment Area/place. Records of the Native Affairs Department in South Africa are often catalogued under the name of a district or region, but contain material about larger areas. The files sometimes unintentionally even contain information on unrelated regions. 2.2.1 Natal Map 2.1: Portion of Molife Ward

The map is based on google maps and was compiled with geographical information from various sources. The coordinates (Lat.27 °52’30’’ respectively 28° 00’ 00’’, Long 30° 30’00’’ respectively 30° 45’00’’): H. A. Melle, Acting Secretary for Native Affairs to The Chief Native Commissioner Pietermaritzburg, 6. 7. 1950, NASA, SAB (NTS) 7568 880/327. Other points were taken from: V. M. P. Leibbrandt, Native Commissioner Nqutu to Chief Native Commissioner Pietermaritzburg, Molife Ward: Assessment of Cattle Units, 6. 5. 1949, NASA, SAB (NTS) 7568 880/327.

2.2.1.1 Natal: Nqutu District

The Molife Ward was already subjected to Betterment measures under the segregation government. It was set up on 22 February 1946. In May 1949, the Native Commissioner V. M. P. Leibbrandt presented a plan regarding which Betterment Area was to be extended by the addition of a ‘portion B’.265 265 The area’s boarder was to run ‘[…] from the Batshe Bridge on the Nqutu-­Dundee-­Road following the Batshe stream to its source […] in a straight line to the Vryheid Road […] to

Village Planning and Betterment Schemes  |

According to the Chief Native Commissioner of Natal, portion B was to carry 13,000 cattle units. The Planning Committee discussed the planned rehabilitation of Molife Ward for months. In November 1959, the Native Commissioner stated that reclamation by fencing would not be sufficient. It would be necessary to deal with land distribution, water, and afforestation. A detailed map and survey of the area would be essential. After long debates, Reserve no. 18 (Molife Ward included) was divided into portions A and B.266 Government Notice 373 again declared it a Betterment Area as of 16 February 1951. Thirteen thousand cattle units were included in the inventories. Portion A was bordered by the Batshe and Buffalo rivers and the Nqutu-­Dundee main road. The assessed number of cattle units was 3,375.267 If looking at different maps of South Africa, it is possible that Molife Ward belonged to the released areas designated in 1936. This would explain the detailed information about village planning, which is unusual in the Natal Province. Stock improvement and early discussions with Natives about reclamation schemes were the only traceable Betterment measures undertaken in the first year. According to the information of the Native Commissioner Nqutu, in May 1951, 90 cattle units were culled in Potion A, i. e. 43 head of cattle (43 units), 114 sheep (23 units), 25 goats (5 units), 1 donkey (1 unit), and 18 horses (18 units).268 A discussion about stock reduction in Portion B of the Reserve showed that Chief Isaac Molife and five hundred Africans who were present complained about the its junction to the old road of Nondweni […] in a straight line to the source of the Jojosi river at the Telezi Hill […] across the mountain to the source of the Vungama […] down that stream to the first wagon road to its junction with the Blood Rover Road […] to the drift of the Mvunyann at the foot of the Nkende Hill […] along the Boundary of the Districts Vryheid-­Nqutu, Utrecht-­Nqutu and Dundee Nqutu […] to the Dundee-­Nqutu main road […] to the Batshe bridge].’ V. M. P. Leibbrandt, Native Commissioner Nqutu to Chief Native Commissioner Pietermaritzburg, Molife Ward: Assessment of Cattle Units, 6. 5. 1949, NASA , SAB , NTS 7568 880/327. 266 The larger portion B extended ‘[…] from the Batshe Bridge on the Nqutu-­Dundee-­Road, along the boundary of Ngobese ward to the Nqutu river road along the Blood river to the junction with the old road to Nondweni in a straight line to the source of the Jojosi river at the Telezi Hill, then in a northerly direction to the Molife Mdhalalose tribe’s area, then to the Umvunyama river, then along the boundary of Molife Ward and the Vryheid, Utrecht and Dundee Districts, to the Nqutu-­Dundee main road, along the road to the Batshe bridge.’ V. M. P. Leibbrandt, Native Commissioner Nqutu to Chief Native Commissioner Pietermaritzburg, Molife Ward: Assessment of Cattle Units, 6. 5. 1949, NASA , SAB , NTS 7568 880/327. See also Map 2.1. 267 Secretary of Native Affairs, Chief Commissioner Pietermaritzburg, V. M. P. Leibbrandt, Native Commissioner Nqutu, Planning Molife Ward, 1949 – 1951, NASA , SAB , NTS 7568 880 327, 82 – 144. 268 V. M. P. Leibbrandt, Native Commissioner Nqutu, Stock Limitation: Molife Ward: Portion B, File No. 106/44/1, 9. 5. 1951, NASA , SAB , NTS 7568 880/327, 141.

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Betterment Schemes. Represented by the African Vukunzenzele Association, the inhabitants of Molife Ward defined the stock reduction as a ‘strangulation’ of the African population. Their complaints were however ignored.269 It is unclear who constituted the membership of the African Vukunzenzele Association. 2.2.1.2 Natal: Ixopo District

The Trusts were obviously under stricter control than the scheduled areas. In the Trust locations of Erith and Kingston, the Native Commissioners controlled livestock.270 The planning of the first large scheduled area, the St Michaelis Mission Reserve, was very complicated. According to archival records, there were two problems. First, communication between administrative bodies did not work. The Bantu Affairs Commissioner Ixopo claimed that there had been no answer for over a month to an application seeking to declare the Mission Reserve a Betterment Area. Second, some residents of St Michaelis opposed the plan for closer settlements. The Commissioner in Ixopo wanted to deal with the opposition with ‘tactful administration’.271 However, he had to admit that using Africans as free labour to fence the area, as well as the control of stock numbers were contentious issues. He suggested that providing solid education could be a potential solution.272 Regarding the opposition of the residents to these important points, the South African Native Trust did not want to take part in the rehabilitation measures.273 In the end, the St Michalis Mission Reserve was declared a Betterment Area in December 1961.274 The existing archival material does not allow any conclusions about how the conflicts with the inhabitants were resolved. Furthermore, it remains unclear whether SANT was financially involved in the Mission Reserve.

269 Native Commissioner Nqutu, Reclamation: Potion B: Molife Ward, File 105/45/1, 11. 6. 1952, NASA , SAB , NTS 7568 880/327, 142. 270 Hoofnaturellenkommissarie, Pietermaritzburg to Naturellenkommissarie, Ixopo, Endorsement 106/14/2, N2/7/3/1, 31. 7. 1956 – 11. 6. 1957, NASA , SAB , NTS 7576 1004/327, 61 – 70. 271 Bantu Affairs Commissioner Ixopo to Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner, Pietermaritzburg, N8/5/3-1, 14. 4. 1960, NASA , SAB , NTS 7576 1004/327. 272 Bantu Affairs Commissioner Ixopo to Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner, Pietermaritzburg, N8/5/3-1, 10. 10. 1959, NASA , SAB , NTS 7576 1004/327. 273 S. Toerin, Secretarie van Bantoe-­Administrasie en- Ontwikkeling to Hoofbantoekommissarie Pietermaritzburg, 105/14/16, 12. 6. 1960, NASA , SAB , NTS 7576 1004/327. 274 Union of South Africa, Official Notice for Publication, 14. 11. 1961, NASA , SAB , NTS 7576 1004/327, 94.

Village Planning and Betterment Schemes  |

2.2.2 Ciskei: Peddie District

In the Peddie District, situated in the later Ciskei, Reserve planning and stock limitation measures were enforced after 1955. Corresponding to the information of the Tomlinson Commission, Betterment work in the districts of the Ciskeian territories and in the Peddie district seems to have been more systematic than in other provinces. A deeper investigation, however, reveals that spatial planning suffered from the lack of coordination und continuity. From 1956 onward, various single locations were declared Betterment Areas. No rehabilitation measures other than stock management are documented, but there are many detailed lists about the numbers of cattle and the location’s inhabitants. The Betterment Area of Durban Mission experienced an initial cattle cull in 1954. In February 1956, 28 landowners lived there. The Native Commissioners had calculated an assessment of five cattle units per landowner. In agreement with the majority of the inhabitants, excessive cattle units were culled.275 In 1957, a carrying capacity of 149 cattle units was assessed. One 153 units of large stock, consisting of 70 cows, 28 heifers, 50 oxen, 1 bull, 4 horses and 38 units of small livestock consisting of 190 sheep were inspected. Culled were 17 units of large livestock and 303/5 units of small livestock. The Committee allowed 152/5 units over the assessment for various reasons.276 According to the schedule, every landowner possessed a maximum of 5 cattle units after the culling. The commissioner argued that it was a ‘good year’, with an abundance of grazing and the landowners wished to keep some cattle to sell. The cattle numbers were also a result of the late inspection: many calves and lambs were counted as mature stock.277 The culling report for the Durban Mission seemed to be part of a general report for various locations of culls that took place in February 1957. Some of them do not have their own names. There are culling schedules from Lots 20, 22, and 24. The assessed carrying capacity for the 23 inhabitants was 200 cattle units; 229 units were inspected and 29 were culled. In these lots, one bull was owned collectively, while 86 bulls, 64 heifers and 29 oxen belonged to different households. There

275 Chief Native Commissioner (Cape) to Secretary for Native Affairs, Minute No. 118/153, Kingwilliamstown, 11. 2. 1956, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 881/327. 276 Numbers taken from: Chief Native Commissioner (Cape) to Secretary for Native Affairs, Kingwilliamstown, 19. 9. 1957, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 881/327, 192 – 200. The numbers refer presumably to the the ratio between large stock to small stock, which was often 1:5. 277 Chief Native Commissioner (Cape) to Secretary for Native Affairs, Kingwilliamstown, 19. 9. 1957, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 881/327, 192 – 200.

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was no assessed carrying capacity per landowner.278 In the Dank-­den Gowenour Location,279 the 42 inhabitants had 40 cattle units more than the assessed capacity of 100 units. However, no stock were culled because some of the farmers were to be settled to other Trusts.280 In the Ferndale Location, with only 8 inhabitants, the assessed carrying capacity was 74; 103 units of stock were inspected and 28 cattle units were culled. There was an excess of 1 unit, perhaps because the only bull was owned collectively.281 In the Peddie District, new Betterment Areas were declared in 1956 and 1957. In December 1956, Newtondale Location No 12 was to become a Betterment Area. The Chief Native Commissioner reported the need to fence the boundaries of the location to prevent outside livestock from trespassing. This would require fencing 8 miles in length. The inhabitants were to be persuaded to work for free to build the fence, to accept measures of stock limitation, and to surrender titles to arable land.282 The stabilisation planning, as well as the declaration of Newtondale as a Betterment Area failed. Only some of the inhabitants, including Headman Manya, supported the decision to declare the location a Betterment Area and accept the regulations.283 Regarding Pato’s Kop Location (Tuku), it is difficult to differentiate between the actual status and the planning stages. It seems that the location was declared a Betterment Area in 1957. According to the correspondence between the Native Commissioners, the inhabitants’ level of acceptance of Betterment planning was high.284 Culling reports from 1960 make it clear that the already mentioned Lots 20, 22, and 24, as well as the Dank-­den-­Gouwenour Location and the Ferndale Location were Trust properties, that is, land designated under the 1936 Land Act. It remains unclear whether the relocation of inhabitants of the Dank-­den-­Gouwenour Location ever took place. The number of cattle in all locations remained relatively stable in 1960. The number of slaughtered animals amounted to between 10 and 278 Chief Native Commissioner (Cape) to Secretary for Native Affairs, Kingwilliamstown, 19. 9. 1957, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 881/327, 192 – 200. 279 Location became an official administrative term for African rural settlements in the second half of the 19th century. 280 Chief Native Commissioner (Cape) to Secretary for Native Affairs, Kingwilliamstown, 19. 9. 1957, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 881/327, 192 – 200. 281 Chief Native Commissioner (Cape) to Secretary for Native Affairs, File No. 180/120, Kingwilliamstown, 19. 9. 1957, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 881/327,190, 191. 282 Chief Native Commissioner, Kingwilliamstown to Native Commissioner, Peddie, Newtondale Location No 12, Kingwilliamstown, 21. 12. 1956, NASA, SAB, NTS 7569 881/327, 201. 283 Secretary for Native Affairs to Chief Native Commissioner, Kingwilliamstown, Ref. No. 881/​ 327, 10. 5. 1957, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 881/327, 214. 284 Native Commissioner, Peddie, to Chief Native Commissioner, Kingwilliamstown, N.2/8/3/4, 20. 9. 1957, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 881/327.

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30, which represented 10 to 30 per cent of all cattle. An exception was the Durban Location, which was not a Trust. Of 228 inspected cattle units, 47 were culled.285 2.2.3 Transkei

According to the Tomlinson Commission, the Transkeian Territories were those regions with the most progress on Trust land. In the scheduled areas, only 2.8 per cent of the total area was stabilised in 1955.286 Archival material about the rehabilitation planning in the Transkei also indicates differences between scheduled and released areas. In a report on a visit to the Transkei in October 1955, the Director of Bantu Agriculture pointed out that many districts were in poor condition and rehabilitation was progressing very slowly. Only the Ngamagkwe District was in good condition, showing no visible soil degradation or erosion. The Willowvale District, however, was in dire need of conservation measures, according to the director. A Phormium Tenax plantation in the region near the Kei River would bring a lesser harvest than expected.287 The source remains silent as to the purpose of planting Phormium Tenax, which originates from New Zealand. The officer in charge emphasised the responsibility of the officers of the Ad Hoc Commitee for the lack of rehabilitation.288 Although presented as in a good ecological condition, the district of Nga­ magkwe contained diverse Betterment Areas in the 1960s, for example, Manqala Location 3.289 2.2.3.1 Transkei: Willowvale District

Two locations situated in the Willowvale District were declared Betterment Areas on 10 April 1959: the Weza Location No. 12 and Qakazana Location No. 24.290 The Willowvale District belonged to the scheduled areas designated in 1913. In 285 Culling Schedules 22. 3. – 24. 3. 1960. NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 881/327. 286 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 75. 287 This plant was also called New Zealand flax. 288 Skakelbeamte (Akerbou) to Direkteur van Naturellenlandbou, 1132/127 (5), Besoek aan die Transkei, 10. – 22. 10. 1955, NASA , SAB , NTS 1026248432.X 289 Republic of South Africa, Stock Limitation Ngamakwe, Manqaba Loc 3, 1961, N/8/5/3/19, NASA , Cape Town Archives Repository (KAB ), Magistrate Ngamakwe (1927 – 1964) (1/ NKE ) 91 N/8/5/3/19. 290 Government Notice No. 512, 10. 4. 1959, Government Printer, Pretoria, NASA , SAB , NTS 7575 975/327.

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April 1960, the Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner of the Transkeian Territories assessed the carrying capacity of the Weza Location at 1,111 cattle units.291 The carrying capacity of the Qakazana Location was set at 3,614 cattle units.292 2.2.3.2 Transkei: Mount Fletcher

Betterment planning in the district of Mount Fletcher, as archived documents on the declaration of February 1958 show, suffered under a lack of planning. The Tinana Location no. 19293 was finally declared a Betterment Area in June of 1958.294 The correspondence about Betterment and stabilisation planning from 1958 to 1960 is spotty. It seems that the magistrates of the Transkeian Territories had proposed declaring the district a Betterment Area as early as 1957 and put individual locations under a general stabilisation programme. However, this may also have been a mistake of W. H. Boshoff, Secretary of Native Affairs, who regarded several documents that he did not describe further as necessary for this bureaucratic act.295 A few days later the Chief Magistrate of the Transkeian Territories ensured the ‘full cooperation as far as stock limitation and free work is recommended, can be expected’. However, there were no further plans are mentioned about stabilisation measures.296 Responding to this letter, the Secretary for Bantu Administration and Development declared the locations, now called Nxothshane and Likethlans, as Betterment Areas. Nevertheless, he later reversed the declaration because of a lack of planning.297 A similar note rejects Tabasie Location No. 19 as a Betterment Area in April 1960, mentioning the lack of correspondence between the DNA in Pretoria and the administration of the Transkei.298 It remains uncertain, how 291 Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner of the Transkeian Territories, Notice 328/326, NASA , SAB , NTS 7575 975/327, 21. 292 Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner of the Transkeian Territories, Notice, NASA , SAB , NTS 7575 975/327, 28. 293 A. S. Murray, Secretary of Native Affairs to Chief Magistrate Umtata, NASA , SAB , NTS 7575 946/327, 17. 294 Union of South Africa, Government Notice 896, 27. 6. 1958, NASA , SAB , NTS 7575 946/327, 21. 295 W. H. Boshoff, Secretary of Native Affairs to Chief Native Commissioner, Umtata, File 946/327, 21. 10. 1958, NASA , SAB , NTS 7575 946/327, 25. 296 Chief Magistrate of the Transkeian Territories to The Secretary of Native Affairs, File No. 946/327, Minute No. 100/13/3/17, 25. 10. 1958, NASA , SAB , NTS 7575 946/327, 30. 297 Secretary for Bantu Administration and Development to Chief Magistrate, Umtata, File No. 946/327, October 1958, NASA , SAB , NTS 7575 946/327, 3[]. 298 Waarn. Secretarie van Bantoe-­Administrasie en- Ontwikkeling to Hoofbantoesakekommissarie, File No. 946/327, Endorsement 63/13/18, 13. 4. 1960, NASA , SAB , NTS 7575 946/327.

Village Planning and Betterment Schemes  |

ever, whether the Chief Native Commissioner, who was regularly the addressee of correspondence from the Secretary of Native Affairs, was a different person or whether he had different functions from that of the Chief Magistrate of the Transkeian Territories. It is plausible that the DNA in Pretoria may have ignored the special structure of the Native administration in Transkei. 2.2.4 Western Areas

These areas comprised several individual districts: Mafeking, Vryburg, Kuruman, Taung, and Godononia. From 1895 to 1910, the territory was formally part of the Cape Colony. Several Land Acts, the last one in the Native Trust and Land Act of 1936, fixed the relatively disjointed borders of the Native Reserves.299 2.2.4.1 Western Areas: Kuruman District

The process of stock limitation and village planning of Vlakfontein in the Kuruman District is relatively well documented. In 1956, three cattle inspections and cullings took place. These inspections were infrequent. According to Senior Agricultural Officer Mr Daverin, the assessed carrying capacity of the site was 730 cattle units. Only 536 cattle units were counted, but 454 were presented for culling. In the end, only one was culled. The Agricultural Officer stated an understocking of 277 cattle units.300 Two additional inspections during the same year resulted in an understocking of 253 units; a census on 4 October 1957 resulted in an understocking of 203 units. None of the inhabitants possessed more than 8 cattle units. The ratio of large to small stock was 1:4.4. The number of inhabitants increased from 23 to 30 from 1956 to 1957.301 After 1958, the Vlakfontein village was planned in detail. The planning group consisted of four responsible officers, H. P. Smit, Naturellenkommissarie (Native Commissioner), S. Marais, Senior Landboubeampte (Senior Agricultural Officer), D. G. Schoeman, Landboubeampte (Agricultural Officer), and J. J. Strydom, Technical Service. The area consisted of 5,830 morgen of land 50 miles south-­east of Kuruman city. Living there were 115 families under Hoofman (Headman) Paul Kenesi. Of them, 42 owned neither cattle nor land. The other 73 families possessed 299 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 43. 300 Senior Agricultural Officer Mr. Daverin, 8/5/3/ (1), Stock Limitation Vlakfontein, 27. 2. 1956, NASA , KAB , Bantu Affairs Commissioner Kuruman (1931 – 1969 (2/KMN ) 49 8/5/3 (1). 301 Senior Agricultural Officer, Naturelle Vee Geteel op Vlakfontein 22. 10. 1956 en Keuring 9. 11. 1956, Vlakfontein, 4. 10. 1957, NASA , KAB , 2/KMN 49 8/5/3 (1).

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1 to 14 counted cattle units, 10 units on average. Another 33 farmers also had 1 to 14 cattle units, 8 did not have any cattle, and 9 possessed more than 14 cattle units. The grazing conditions of the area were poor. The soil was degraded due to overgrazing. The kaaroo-­grass biome in the north-­western part could be valuable for sheep. The arable land was divided into 120 plots. Because of low rainfall, no dryland existed. The area only had a small irrigation scheme ground of 60 morgen. Another problem was the water supply. Dividing the area into three plots, the officers stated that only Kamp A and C had water. It was planned to settle 27 families in housing units in Kamp A, 27 families in C. On the Reserve, there was no school nor any businesses; only one public telephone existed. The committee planned to instate an agricultural society in Vlakfontein. The members of the commission prohibited ploughing in the irrigation schemes in order to avoid dryland. The ad hoc proposal of 1 April 1958 suggested using 30 of the economic units of Vlakfontein within half a mile of the irrigation ground for ploughing. The other 35 units were to be used for grazing and milking systems. Drilling for water in the middle of Kamp B would supply the Reserve with water. The area slated for irrigation was ordered to be fenced in. According to the commissioners, forestry was not suitable in the area, because of the vegetation in the so-­called Metsi-­Metsi-­Spruit.302 Table 2.3: Grazing Scheme Vlakfontein

1st Year 2nd Year 3rd Year

Kamp 1 Spring, Early Summer, Winter 2 Winter 1 Spring, Early Summer, Winter2

Kamp 2 Late Summer

Kamp 3 Winter 1

Spring, Early Summer, Winter 2 Winter 1

Late Summer Late and Early Summer, Winter 2

Source: Diensbrief 18. 9. 1958, Beplanning Vlakfontein, Kuruman, NASA, KAB, 2/KMN 49 8/5/3 (1).

2.2.4.2 Western Areas: Vryburg District

In the Vryburg District, several Trusts were declared Betterment Areas between 1956 and 1960. The planning of the Motiton Reserve is an interesting case, because the Reserve was enlarged by adding land from the Kuruman District. In a letter dated 2 July 1959, the responsible Bantu Affairs Commissioner describes the sit 302 Diensbrief 18. 9. 1958, Beplanning Vlakfontein, Kuruman, NASA , KAB , 2/KMN 49 8/5/3 (1). Metsi-­Metsi-­Spruit refers to an area near the Metsi-­Metsi Nature Reserve.

Village Planning and Betterment Schemes  |

uation in the district serious. Control measures were necessary. The inhabitants should agree to work for free, building fences necessary to control the livestock. Experienced officers in collaboration with the Tribal Authority were to be in charge of planning. The Motiton Reserve was to be given additional grazing grounds to reduce the pressure on the soil. For this purpose, seven farms in the Kuruman District were to be annexed. The size of these farms is unknown since measurement units were not provided. The Trust also purchased a farm called Tweelingspar[k] situated in a section originally leased to a European family.303 The responsible Bantu Affairs Commissioner, Mr Bourquin, was able to ensure the cooperation of the inhabitants after a tribal meeting in August 1959. This case study reveals the arbitrariness and often absurd logic behind geographical and social engineering. Already living on the farms about to be annexed were 26 families with 609 cattle units. These people were to be relocated to ensure the benefit of additional grazing lands to the Motiton Reserve. The commissioner had no clear plans for accommodations or providing farming opportunities for these resettled earlier inhabitants of Kuruman.304 The application to make Motiton a Betterment Area was placed on 8 August 1959. The resettlement of the people living in the proposed additional areas was declared part of further planning.305 Since different headmen sometimes opposed each other, Motiton was reorganized into four single autonomous Reserves: Motiton1, Motiton 2, Takoon, and Keang,306 declared Betterment Areas on 17 June 1960.307 Another case obviously important for the Bantu Affairs Commission in Vryburg was the Madeakgam Reserve, which was supposed to have been resettled already in 1922. Resettlement plans failed due to resistance by its inhabitants. The planned New Madeagkam was planned to be located in Austray and Goodwood, areas purchased by the Trust. The old Reserve was to become white. The plans for the new Reserves left certain things unsettled, among them the amount of financial 303 Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner Potchefstroom to Bantu Affairs Commissioner, Vryburg (55) N2/8/3/ (4), Afskrif, 2. 7. 1959, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 889/327, 115. The system of removing Black Spots in white areas and the purchase of white farms in Native Reserves will be dealt with in the next section. 304 Bantu Affairs Commissioner, Vryburg, to Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner Potchefstroom, Minute No. N8/5/3/ (7), 4. 8. 1959, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 889/327, 117, 118. 305 Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner Potchefstroom to the Secretary of Native Administration and Development, Pretoria, Minute No. (55) N2/8/3(4), 8. 8. 1959, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 889/327, 120. 306 Bantu Affairs Commissioner, Vryburg, to Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner Potchefstroom, Minute No. N8/5/3/ (7), 29. 9. 1959, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 889/327. 307 Union of South Africa, Government Notice 844,845, 846,847, 17. 6. 1970, Staatskoerant, 17. 6. 1960, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 889/327.

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compensation for the resettled inhabitants as well as their concrete resistance.308 Ecological measures in general often seem to have been voluntary. The above-­ mentioned Phormium Tenax plantation near the Kei River is hard to explain.309 Phormium Tenax is used for fibre production. Sources suggest that the costs for the purchase of the plants and their maintenance greatly exceeded the profits raised by their sale. Another interesting agricultural measure was documented in 1951. Officials of the Department of Native Affairs brought a Bapedi cattle breeding herd from Vaalpenskraal, Potgietersrust, to Stellenbosch, Sekukuniland, to offer it a more typical natural habitat.310 The estimated cost of this resettlement and service was £350.311 2.2.5 The Impact of Betterment on Land Tenure and Reactions of the African Population

The description of Betterment above may leave the reader with the impression that the programme of restructuring was rather weak. One cannot help but gain the impression that Betterment was a hopeless and one-­sided stopgap measure. Nevertheless, this impression is only partially correct. South African bureaucracy was indeed known for its unsystematic approach and its randomness, but the importance of Betterment planning and its impact on the Native Reserves and inhabitants should not be underestimated. Betterment was designed to transform patterns of land use in the Reserves by dividing rural locations into residential, arable, and grazing units, fencing off grazing camps and fields, and grouping homesteads together into village-­like settlements.312 It included greater state control and the concentration of people into residential grids. Apartheid planners saw their work as a remedy for congested and ecologically strained rural settlements. Over the years, this translated into wide-­ranging schemes to enforce uniform land-­use patterns and to centralize residential areas.313 In the late 1950s, a new 308 Bantu Affairs Commissioner, Vryburg, to Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner Potchefstroom, Minute No. 2/7/3(10), 15. 8. 1959, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 889/327, 201. 309 Skakelbeamte (Akerbou) to Direkteur van Naturellenlandbou, 1132/127 (5), Besoek aan die Transkei, 10. – 22. 10. 1955, NASA , SAB , NTS 1026248432. 310 Chief Native Commissioner, Pietermaritzburg to Secretary of Native Affairs, No. 42/19/, 26. 4. 1951, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 885/327. 311 Union on South Africa, Office of the Native Commissioner, 5. 3. 1951, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 885/327, 144. 312 P. A. McAllister, “Resistance to ‘Betterment’ in the Transkei: A Case Study from Willowvale District”. Journal of Southern African Studies 15 (2) (1989), 346 – 365, 346. 313 Wotshela, Quitrent Tenure, 735.

Village Planning and Betterment Schemes  |

three-­stage development plan was to replace classic Betterment strategies: stabilisation, reclamation, and rehabilitation. The first stage was designed to prevent further degradation in so-­called extensive areas, instead of a widespread range of reclamation measures in limited areas. This stage would attempt to stave off greater deterioration without active measures to reclaim eroded natural resources. Stabilisation services sought to establish residential areas on suitable terrain, the identification of arable lands, and the prevention of random farming efforts, for example, working unproductive lands. Other parts of the plan involved the general protection of agricultural resources, the provision of fuel supplies, and building new schools. The shift from quite detailed planning to one that was looser included the introduction of Ad Hoc Planning Committees to replace of the former standing committees. These new temporary administrative bodies were to be appointed in each individual district.314 The attempt, however, to install a unified settlement scheme failed. The differences between the multiplicities of the African communities had not been taken into consideration. The land tenure system, land-­use patterns, and the organisation of rural settlements differed across tribes and regions. To understand the failure of Betterment, it is thus important to review its impact in different areas and locations. 2.2.5.1 Ciskei

The implementation of Betterment was a turning point for the Ciskei. In the Ciskeian Territories, various types of land tenure existed. According to questionable information from J. A. C. van Heerden, Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner for the Ciskei, the status in the Ciskeian Native Areas on 31 December 1958 was as follows: Table 2.4: Aerial Extent and Population of the Ciskei, 1958

Extent of Bantu Areas(a) Extent of the Native-­owned Areas(b) Total

Morgen 981,357 43,741 1,025,098

Bantu Population in (a) Bantu Population in (b) Total Density of Population per sq. mile

310,891 9,972 320,861 105.2

Source: Union of South Africa, The Structure and Functions of the Department of Bantu Administration and Development. Based on an Address delivered to the ‘Bantu Study Group’ of Rhodes University on 27 May by Mr J. A. C. van Heerden, Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner, Ciskei, Bantoe/Bantu, 9 (1959), 54.

314 Hendricks, Pillars of Apartheid, 154, 155.

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There is a healthy supply of case studies analysing the implementation of Betterment that look at different locales and different aspects of the process.315 In the Peddie District, the majority of the African population lived in unobserved communal areas. Here, Betterment measures led to a decline of cattle, enclosures of grazing land, and the relocation of families. Most African people affected by these measures suffered, but depending on the former land tenure system there was a variety of changes, not just a change in settlement patterns. Two locations in the Peddie District mentioned above were exceptions: the Durban Mission Location and the Newtondale Location.316 The archival material at my disposal does not provide any information about the fate of the landowners during Betterment planning. It remains a mystery whether the owners kept their title deeds, granted in 1858, though it seems unlikely that they would have relinquished these titles voluntarily. South African property rights are complicated. There is a formal system of title deeds characterized by precise proprietary powers of registered owners, as well as a system more akin to land tenure, with freehold titles across the whole Eastern Cape. These, usually found among African families, are traced to these family’s forebears, who acquired their titles in the 19th century. Relationships reminiscent of ‘customary’ concepts of family are not extinguished when a title is issued. The land is viewed as family property, sometimes held by claim to the family name. African freeholders’ source of legitimation of successive rights in land is not written law, but it is common law and regionally accepted. Common law and traditions are framed within identifiable parameters that sanction socially acceptable practices.317 Quitrent villages, most of which were restructured due to overcrowding, which was considered ecologically vulnerable and difficult to administer, were also quite different from classic Betterment Areas. The nature of quitrent tenure changed as a consequence of Betterment measures, with legal standings changing conspicuously. Quitrenters had enjoyed greater rights, with the liberty to offer residential sites for rent as well as to dictate the kind of resources they wanted to share with their tenants. In certain aspects, quitrent holders would have been good test persons for the Tomlinson Commission’s proposed African farming class. Nevertheless, the government planners faced two challenges. First, the challenge of reorganizing the quitrent settlements without losing the agricultural component. Second, the challenge of accommodating a large number of landless households. The Apartheid state added another layer of land rights to gain new sources of patronage. Various 315 Viedge, History of Land Tenure. Wotshela, Quitrent Tenure. Chris de Wet, “Betterment Planning in a Rural Village in Keiskammahoek, Ciskei”. Journal of Southern African Studies 15 (2) (1989), 326 – 345. 316 Viedge, History of Land Tenure, 9. 317 Kingswill, Papering over the Cracks, 241.

Village Planning and Betterment Schemes  |

new land sites to accommodate people were demarcated on the commonage that had originally been attached to quitrent holdings, which subsequently reduced their size. This reallocation of land fostered more egalitarian land rights of privileged quitrenters, but restricted land resources for the majority.318 The sizes of economic landholdings varied in the Ciskei: On some farms near Alica, acquired by the Trust, Betterment overflow was resettled on four morgen of land plus an allowance of seven head of grazing cattle. In the Kreiskammahoek District, each family was given three morgen, seven-­tenths of a morgen as a residential site, and a small plot of irrigated land for vegetable growing.319 2.2.5.2 Transkei

The Transkei was considered the ‘nuclear point’ or ‘heartland’ of the isiXhosa-­ speaking population. This centre was surrounded by the ‘South-­Eastern Nguni Bloc’, including the ‘Bantu Areas in the Ciskei’, which were ready to be developed.320 According to the Tomlinson Commission, the territory extended from the Kei River to the southern boundary of Natal and from the Drakensberg Mountains to the Indian Ocean.321 The territory’s size is quite uncertain, with figures ranging between 34,000 km2 and 45,000 km2.322 There was a significant number of quitrent allocations in seven former magisterial districts in the Transkeian Territories near the Kei River: Butterworth, Tsomo, Ngamakwe, Idutywa, Xhalanga, Ngcobo, and Umtata.323 During his visit to the Transkei in October 1955, the responsible Agricultural Commissioner stated that the Ngamagkwe District was in good condition, without mentioning the land tenure principles.324 The impact of land-­ use patterns on ecological conditions will be addressed below. A closer look at the different conditions of land tenure as well as at the differences between Trust areas and Reserves reveals that it was impossible to install a uniform settlement system in the Transkeian Territories. The plans to develop Vlakfontein are a good example of the shift in planning methods, which no longer focused on details, but became looser. An Ad Hoc 3 18 Wotshela, Qitrent Tenure, 727, 735. 319 Muriel Horrel, “A Survey of Race Relations in South Africa 1954 – 1955”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1955), 139. 320 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 154, 155. 321 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 42. 322 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 154 323 Wotshela, Quitrent Tenure, 731, 732. 324 Skakelbeamte (Akerbou) to Direkteur van Naturellenlandbou, 1132/127 (5), Besoek aan die Transkei, 10. – 22. 10. 1955, NASA , SAB , NTS 1026248432.

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Commitee already existed, consisting of H. P. Smit, Naturellenkommissarie (Native Commissioner), S. Marais, Senior Landboubeampte (Senior Agricultural Officer), D. G. Schoeman, Landboubeampte (Agricultural Officer), J. J. Strydom, Technical Service, and Hoofman (Headman) Paul Kenesi. The section above addressed the processes of selecting residential areas, arable land, and grazing allotments, as well as monitoring random ploughing. The small case study also makes clear that the village scheme, and consequently social life of the village residents to be settled in Vlakfontein, changed completely.325 The planning of the Motiton Reserve in the Vryburg District not only shows the dramatic impact that Betterment planning had on the African population, but is also illustrates the project’s failure from the start. This was caused by overlapping settlements and the lack of resources. Territorial displacement of so much population into geographically tight confines, especially based on the racist ideologies of segregation and white supremacy, were doomed to failure. Betterment and segregation policies had consequences: riots tore through the whole country from 1946 onwards, lasting for nearly 20 years. Some of the areas riddled by rioting were Witzieshoek, Marico, the north-­west Transvaal, and all of the Transkei, especially in Pondoland. This was suppressed with military force. In November 1960, the state declared a state of emergency. The Pondoland struggle became linked to a national liberation struggle and was soon connected to the African National Congress movement. However, the people underestimated the military.326 William Beinart calls the Pondoland struggle the most sustainable revolt, due the political structure of the Transkeian Territories. Transkei was a Reserve area with close to half a million people, divided into eastern and western zones under different Paramount Chiefs. There had been disputes about access to the forests and coastal grazing lands, and Betterment between the areas’ chiefs. As power was devolved to the unpopular Paramount Chief Victor Poto, who was in favour of Betterment, his opponents argued that he had ‘sold the people to the government’. His councillors were attacked and a few were killed. The rebels met on hilltops to avoid surveillance, naming their movement Ntaba (Mountain). When the government sent in police and military forces, at least eleven rebels were gunned down at a mass meeting on Ngquza hill at the border of the Lusikisiki and Bizana Districts. Their leader, Solomon Madikizela, was a share-­holding farmer, a small trader, and a Methodist evangelist who cared deeply about the legitimacy of local chieftaincy, and thus about local independence. He and others were tried and exiled. The rebels 325 Diensbrief 18. 9. 1958, Beplanning Vlakfontein, Kuruman, NASA , KAB , 2/KMN 49 8/5/3 (1). 326 Mbeki, Peasant Revolt, 124, 128, 129.

Homeland Policy: The Core of Apartheid  |

connected to the ANC now requested arms. There seemed to be the potential for an anti-­colonial struggle that joined urban and rural forces. Rural rebellions alarmed African Nationalist politicians, especially since the Bantustan strategy had become central to the government’s policy after 1960.327

2.3 Homeland Policy: The Core of Apartheid 2.3.1 Consolidation of Bantu Homelands: Spatial and Social Engineering

The so-­called Bantustan programme, based on the earlier colonial Shepstone system, was initiated in 1959 with the Promotion of the Bantu Self-­Government Act. The local governments in the distinct Reserves consisted of Chiefs, Village Headmen, and Councillors, who were salaried officials accountable to the Bantu Affairs Department. The Bantu Self-­Government Act devolved greater executive powers to eight (later ten) Regional Bantu Administrations. Parliamentary representation of Africans by white representatives was abolished. This mechanism of control and ideological justification of Apartheid was euphemistically called ‘separate development’. It accompanied a range of repressive legislation passed to control any possible political opposition. Shootings in Sharpeville in 1960 and the subsequent state of emergency heralded a change in state oppression. People were detained without trial, political organisations opposed to Apartheid were banned, political meetings were outlawed, and individuals were silenced by gag orders.328 It must be kept in mind that the independence of South African Bantustans did not allow the actual emancipation of African communities from the state. The permanent dependency of the Homelands on the South African central state, such as the Bantustan government’s reliance on the Apartheid system, only strengthened white supremacy. Debates about these Homelands as the core of Apartheid policy have been central to the criticism of Apartheid. The word Homeland was seen as problematic, as it seemed to lend legitimacy to the state’s policy of Balkanisation and exclusion.329 Many critics preferred to use the words Reserve or Bantustan.330 The Nationalist agenda focused on defending the idea of separate development and making it a reality. The arguments for independence made by both the South African government and some Homeland leaders were based on anti-­colonial 327 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 164, 165. 328 Unterhalter, Forced Removal, 15, 16. 329 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 217. 330 Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 771.

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rhetoric. For example, Britain was seen as having conquered the Transkei, with Afrikaners portraying themselves as having decolonised it. The notion of a return to tribes and chieftains held an attraction for some African politicians, seeking any form of autonomy that was offered in South Africa under Apartheid.331 The Bantustan’s pyramid structure and its first implementation based on information from the South African Institute of Race Relations demands a closer look. The Promotion of the Bantu Self-­Government Act recognized eight national units: North Sotho, South Sotho, Tswana,332 Zulu, Swazi, Xhosa, Tsonga, and Venda. Five Commissioners-­General were appointed to explain government policy, provide guidance, and consult with the Bantu Authorities. The Governor-­ General in African areas was to establish Tribal Authorities after consulting with each tribe. The head was the local Chief or Headman without the security of tenure. Regional Authorities were constituted in any two or more areas already having Tribal Authorities. The Paramount Chief was the head of such a Regional Authority. The procedure in the Transkei was different. Members of Regional Authorities included all ex officio Chiefs in the area, all district leaders, one person from each district appointed by the responsible Bantu Commissioner, one appointed by the Regional Authorities themselves, and one additional member chosen by the head of the Regional Authority. Regional Authorities were responsible for the establishment and administration of educational institutions, hospitals, water provisions, prevention of soil erosion, afforestation, and the overall improvement of agriculture. They were allowed to pass legislation, but only with the Governor-­ Generals’ approval. The ‘independent’ Bantustans were satellite states, fully controlled by the white South African government. On each of the eight planned national units, there were also to be eight Territorial Authorities, meant to work as a link between the Bantustan population and the Commissioner-­General. They were to consult, address enactments, and maintain communications with the Commissioner-­General and were permitted to acquire land on their own.333 It is important to keep in mind that the government planned ethnic blocs as spatially organized areas. 3 31 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 217, 218. 332 While the correct term is Batswana, I follow various scholars and primarily use the term Tswana. 333 Muriel Horrel, “The Terms of the Promotion of the Bantu Self-­Government Act”. No. 46 of 1959, Muriel Horrel, “A Survey of Race Relations in South Africa”. 1958 – 1959 ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1960), 52 – 62.

Homeland Policy: The Core of Apartheid  |

Table 2.5: Bantu Authorities System in the ‘Ethno-­National Blocs’ Table 2.5.1 (a): Xhosa Group: Transkei

Regional Authorities Transkei proper: Fingo Regional Authority

Gcaleka Regional Authority

Tembuland Dalindyebo Regional Authority

District Authorities Butterworth Tsomo Nqamakwe (‘Ngamakwe’ in NASA KAB 1/NKE; K. L.) Elliotdale Idutywa Willowvale Kentani

Number of Tribal Authorities per District 1 1 1 4 6 6 7

Mqanduli Umtata Engcobo

8 1 3

Emigrant Tembuland Regional Authority Pondoland Qaukeni Regional Authority

Xalanga St. Marks

4 4

Mount Ayliff Bizana Flagstaff Tabankulu Lusikisikisi

1 8 4 3 5

Nyanda Regional Authority

Libode Port St Johns Ngqueleni

3 3 4

Matatiele Mount Fletcher

9 5

Mount Frere Qumbu Tsolo

5 6 7

East Griqualand Maluti Regional Authority Emboland Regional Authority

Uzimkulu District (also Regional Authority)

14

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Table 2.5.1 (b): Xhosa Group: Ciskei

Old System District

Local Councils

Glen Grey

Glen Grey District Council Hewu Local Council

Queenstown Victoria East

Victoria East Local Council

New System Regional Authorities

Dikene Regional Authority

Number of Tribal Authorities

3

Kreiskammahoek

Kreiskammahoek Regional Authority

2

Middledrift

Middledrift Regional Authority

2

King William’s Town

King William’s Town Regional Authority

6

Ndlambe Regional Authority

5

Peddie East London

Peddie Local Council

The working of the Bantu Authorities system in the individual regions was described as follows: Transkei and Ciskei formed closed spatial units. The contradictions inherent to attempting territorial and social consolidation become evident in the other protectorates. The existence of single African territorial units and Black Spots was meant to work with the artificial division of Africana as based on language.334 The borders of the national units were vague until 1959, which is when the constitutional development of the Homelands, as the core of separate development, started. The members of each national group were to be concentrated in a single contiguous Homeland.335 The inconsistencies of inadequate territorial planning and the artificial construct of ethnic groups is evident in the planning for the Zulu, the Northern and Southern Sotho, the Tswana, Swazi, and Venda-­Tsonga groups. 3 34 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 138, 139. 335 Joanne Yawitch, “Betterment. The Myth of Homeland Agriculture”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1982), 34.

Homeland Policy: The Core of Apartheid  |

Table 2.5.2: Zulu Group: Natal

District

Local Councils

Regional Authorities

Number of Tribal Authorities

Zulu Heartland in Central Natal Eshowe Mtunzini Nongoma Msinga Nkandla and Nqutu Mapumulu Camperdown Umvoti Scattered Reservations in North-­East Zululand Ngwavuma Ubombo Lower Umfolozi Very scattered Reservations in Western Natal Klip River Pietermaritzburg Richmond Scattered Reservations in Southern Natal Ixopo Umlazi Local Umlazi Council Umzinto Port Shepstone Alfred

Inkanyezi Regional Authority Msinga Local Council

13 5 3 1 1 1 1 1

3 9 2

1 8 2

3 2 7 4

The Northern Sotho group consisted of various different tribes: the Ba-­Pedi, Ba-­ Koni, Kutswe, Pai, Tau, and parts of the Ba-­Kgatls and Ndbele tribes. These ethnic blocs not only involved scattered territories, but they, in fact, offered no ethnic or linguistic homogeneity of their inhabitants.

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Table 2.5.3: Northern Sotho Group

District

Local Councils

Regional Authorities

Lydenburg (Ba-­Pedi Area) Groblersdal Bronkhorstspruit

Nebo Local Council

8 1

Southern Pietersburg and Letaba Pilgrim’s Rest and Nelspruit

Number of Tribal Authorities 3

Bushbuckridge Local Council

7

In 1959, the Southern Sotho group was still administered by the government of the United Kingdom. Table 2.5.4: Southern Sotho Group

District

Regional Authorities

Herschel

Khotla la Sechaba-­Bandli le Sizwa Regional Authority

Witzieshoek Bergville

Number of Tribal Authorities 6 2 1

The Tswana group was the most scattered in every sense. It consisted of the Rolong (Barolong), Ba-­Hurutshe, Tlhaping, Thlaro, Kwena, Kgatla, Fokeng, Hananwa, Tlhalerwa, Tlokwe, Koni, Kwena, and Ndebele peoples. Its areas were widely dispersed, from the Northern Cape, to Western Transvaal and Free State.

Homeland Policy: The Core of Apartheid  |

Table 2.5.5: Tswana Group

District

Local Councils

Area (a) Marico Vryburg Taung and Barkly West Mafeking, Lichtenburg, Delareyville

Mafeking Local Council

Kuruman

Kuruman Local Council

Hay

Regional Authorities Ba-­Hurutshe Regional Authorities

6

Taung Regional Authority

4

2 1

Area(b) Rustenburg

Area (c) Pietersburg Potgietersrus Area (d) Hammanskraal Area Area (e) Thaba Nchu

7

4

Herbert

Ventersdorp

Number of Tribal Authorities

Pilanesburg Regional Authority Rustenburg Local Council (Not under this Authority)

11 1

2 Pietersburg Local Council

Hammanskraal Local Council

Ndbele Regional Authority

9 7

7

1

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It was not possible to constitute a Territorial Authority for the Swazi group because Swaziland, led by the house of the Paramount Chief, was unlikely to become part of the Union of South Africa. The Barberton District of the Transvaal and the Piet Retief/Ubombo area in the South of Swaziland were inhabited predominantly by Swazi. The Venda-­Tsonga group consisted of a large Reserve in the Sibasa-Soutpansberg-Letaba Districts situated in the Northern Transvaal. Its mixed population consisted of the Venda, Tsonga, and Sotho peoples. Table 2.5.6: Venda-­Tsonga Group

District

Local Councils

Regional Authorities

Sibasa

Vhembe Regional Authority

Soutpansberg

Ramabulana Regional Authority (not under this Authority) Groot Spelunke Regional Authority (not under this Authority)

Letaba

Letaba Local Council Groot Spelunke Local Council

Number of Tribal Authorities 18 6 4 5 10

This inconsistency of ethnic blocs corresponded to the suggestions of the Tomlinson Commission 336; the Transkei section was declared completed by the South African Institute of Race Relations (SAIRR ).337 The SAIRR did not resist the Apartheid government, but at times it had opposed the development of segregation. Homeland consolidation was declared well developed in the Ciskei, the Southern Sotho, Tswana, Swazi, and Venda/Tsonga areas, and in its early stages, also in the Zulu and Northern-­Sotho areas.338 Regarding the process of Bantustan consolidation, it appears spatial planning was one major aspect of hegemonising the racial societies of South Africa. The Apartheid government used geographic space at different levels as an instrument to enforce racial segregation. It was the most important topic in the confrontation with the African majority. However, it was also deeply connected to a second key element for the white minority securing power: an artificial construct of ethnic 3 36 See Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission. 337 The SAIRR was a liberal research organization in South Africa whose influence declined after 1948. 338 All tables and information taken from Muriel Horrel, “The Terms of the Promotion of the Bantu Self-­Government Act, No. 46 of 1959, A Survey of Race Relations in South Africa, 1958 – 1959”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institue of Race Relations,), 70 – 78.

Homeland Policy: The Core of Apartheid  |

categorisation. Spatial planning involved the fragmentation of Homelands to avoid a concentration of black power. Such social engineering, spatial engineering, and ethnic engineering clashed with the attempt to implement satellite states. This form of post-­colonial imperialism of former settlers had an interesting component. Racial segregation included spatial as well as social separation based on skin colour. Nevertheless, segregation on a social as well as a territorial level was not amenable to economic and territorial factors. The spatial division of the population based on racial categories made existing racism practices visible, since race became the framework for territorial planning.339 Although inconsistent and often indiscriminate, spatial planning was a key element in implementing Apartheid, forcing racial segregation and guaranteeing white supremacy. The status quo of the Bantustans described above was just the beginning of consolidating more of the usually scattered Native Areas. A long-­term plan was to eradicate Black Spots, freehold land held by Africans, that were determined as ‘badly situated’ and which had been under threat since 1913.340 It was impossible, of course, to build satellite states with territories similar to the former Native Areas. In the white-­dominated political arena, the Reserves were conceived as labour pools where surplus African people lived. The Reserve boundaries were drawn according to the concerns of the colonial and early post-­colonial governments.341 Finally, after 1959 arguments about expediency such as the accessibility of farmland, harbours, and minerals led to the dissolution of the Homelands. According to official information, by 1967, roughly 15 ‘badly situated’ black areas with a combined acreage of nearly 80,000 ha were eliminated, another 210,000 ha were also assigned to be cleared.342 Even if one disregards the racism evident in such practices, there was simply no territorial basis for these actions. The Apartheid regime adapted diverse proposals for spatial planning to the needs of the white supremacist minority. The combination of the boundaries of the Native Reserves as defined in the two Land Acts were mixed up with the attempts of the Tomlinson Commission. The commission combined the scheduled areas and Trust land into unified blocks based on language. It was a plan that lacked any geographical, political or ethical foundation. The relocation and oppression of 87 per cent of the 339 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 133. B. Wiese, “Raumplanung und Raumordnung in den Bantu­ gebieten der Republik von Südafrika”, Raumforschung und Raumordnung 30 (2) (1972), 77 – 82: 77. 340 Unterhalter, Forced Removals, 16. Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 133. 341 Christopher, Atlas of Apartheid, 67. 342 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 134.

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population into an area encompassing not even 15 per cent of the national territory was not tenable. Why the Apartheid regime lasted as long as it did, despite the above-­mentioned factors, is thus worthy of a deeper investigation. According to Elaine Unterhalter, the Bantustan policy was imposed at a time when the state faced a far-­reaching challenge to its Apartheid policies. Mass political mobilisation of the African population made much of the existing legislation irrelevant, as for example influx control. Many urban areas and some rural districts in Pondoland, Zululand, and the Barufutse in the Transvaal were virtually ungovernable, despite the fact that the Bantustan policy was an attempt to suppress opposition. The strategy was meant to enable the South African state to increase long-­term political control in the former Reserves through newly established organs of Bantustan rule, as described above. Bantustan leaders were meant to act as an effective brake on African political aspirations.343 The Bantustan strategy was affected by economic developments in the 1960s. Following the repression of African political movements, there was an industrial boom, primarily in the manufacturing and construction sectors. Between 1959 and 1964, the gross domestic product increased by 5.2 per cent, between 1963 and 1968 even by 9.3 per cent. The boom was primarily capital-­intensive. Increases in productivity were largely considered the result of investments by the manufacturing sector in capital equipment. Between 1965 and 1975 the capital stock per worker increased by 5 per cent per annum.344 The South African government tried to separate the African population again, with interestingly varied approaches. On the one hand, it was concerned that the increase of black employment would lead to a permanent black urban population, which might challenge white political and economic supremacy. Thus jobless Africans began to be removed from the cities. On the other hand, the government of John Vorster (1966 – 1978) tried to actively establish a black, educated middle class as a means to help maintain Apartheid.345 In this context, the function of the Bantustans changed. Instead of being labour reservoirs, they became destinations to send surplus people. Surplus people were not regarded as essential for white South Africa’s labour markets. The strategy was both to remove unemployed Africans from urban areas and to prevent a mass migration of workers to areas experiencing an economic boom. In 1971, the Bantu Affairs Administration Act moved the responsibility for influx control from white local authorities to the Bantustans.346 A hiatus within 343 Unterhalter, Forced Removals, 17, 18. 344 Ibidem. 345 Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 177, 178. 346 Platzky, Walker, Surplus People, 28. Unterhalter, Forced Removals, 18.

Homeland Policy: The Core of Apartheid  |

Bantustan policy presented itself in the Bantu Homelands Citizenship Act of 1970. The Act changed the status of the inhabitants of the black Homelands as well as black people living outside the Bantustans: they were no longer citizens of the South African state. Each African was the citizen of a Bantustan, whether living there or not. A former Transkei Constitution Act of 1963 had made provisions for dual citizenship, since more than half of the African population did not live in a Homeland. The Bantu Citizenship Act laid down criteria for Homeland citizenship, including one’s Native or mother language. Domicile was just one criterion.347 The main aim was to ensure that white South Africans maintained a population majority in the country. With this piece of legislation, the Bantustans became crucial catch-­all areas for Africans pushed out of the cities.348 Such forced removal will be addressed in the following section. After 1970, a new phase of Apartheid policy was introduced, laying the groundwork for Bantustan independency. Not only did the status of Homelands change, but due to their increase in population, economic conditions worsened, making the prevention of ecological collapse impossible. 2.3.2 Bantustan Independence: Highlights of Spatial and Social Engineering

The territorial planning of the Bantustans was influenced by an economic boom, but the actual process of forcing arbitrary independent states into existence was followed by an economic crisis that was expressed in three distinct ways: a growing payment deficit with a shortfall in investment capital, a shortage of skilled workers to improve technology driven production, and still growing unemployment. All three had a negative impact on the economy. The manufacturing output fell by 6 per cent from 1974 to 1975 and from 1976 to 1977. Private-­sector investments in manufacturing dropped in 1974. Total investments declined by 13 per cent between 1975 and 1977. After the June 1976 massacres, in which armed police forces attacked schoolchildren demonstrating against Apartheid, foreign investment was 347 T. Malan, T. P. S. Hattingh, “Black Homelands in South Africa”. (Pretoria: Africa Institute of South Africa, 1976), 11, 12. 348 Republic of South Africa, “Bantu Homelands Citizenship Act, 1970, Act No. 26 of 1970”. Government Gazette No 2664, 9th March 1970, 3 – 13. http://disa.ukzn.ac.za/sites/default/ files/pdf_files/leg19700309.028.020.026.pdf, accessed 27. 10. 2016. Unterhalter, Forced Removals, 19.

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withdrawn. These economic trends were exacerbated by falling gold prices and a loss of 25 per cent of foreign exchange reserves.349 Shortages of both capital and skilled workers, increasing unemployment, and the militant opposition rising amongst Africans forced to system to shore up white supremacy. Political scandals that revealed secretly funded propaganda campaigns and secret funds caused internal controversies in the party. A crucial promise during this phase of Apartheid was granting independence to the Bantustans. The first Homeland to be declared independent was the Transkei in 1976. The authorities of the Bantustans still controlled the rural and surplus populations. Their legal status, however, changed with ‘independence and self-­rule’. Politically, this was a façade behind which the central government in Pretoria divested itself of the responsibility for millions of Africans now deemed citizens of independent states, although they remained financially, administratively, and in matters of defence, solely dependent on Pretoria.350 All members of the Homeland governments had clearly restricted roles that were determined by the constraints imposed by the dominant republic. White officials assigned to them by Pretoria ‘assisted’ them in their departments. As artificially crafted political communities existing in artificially created Socio-­Ecological Systems, political possibilities were far from those experienced by truly free societies or sovereign states. Again the South African government had changed the formal and administrative structures in the Homelands. Although there was a desire to embrace traditional authority structures, most of the new governments followed the South African or British model.351 As stated above, the process of legislative change culminated in the Bantu Homelands Citizenship Act of 1970. The Bantu Homelands Constitution Act No. 21 of 1971, like the Transkei Constitution Act of 1963, involved constitutional development for Bophuthatswana, the Ciskei, Gazankulu, KwaZulu, Lebowa, QwaQwa, Swazi, and Venda. These were to be the names of the developing independent Homelands alongside the ethnic blocs that had been created by the South African government.352 The government in Pretoria proposed the development of an administrative substructure for the Territorial Authorities and executive councils. The executive presence in the Bantustans was to be strengthened through new ministries controlled by white magistrates. As a consequence, Territorial Authorities were reconstituted and regional powers were centralised. Powers and 349 Unterhalter, Forced Removals, 23. 350 Unterhalter, Forced Removals, 24, 25. 351 Jeffrey Butler, Robert I. Rotberg, John Adams, “The Black Homelands of South Africa: The Political and Economic Development of Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu”. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1910), 42, 43. 352 Malan, Hattingh, Black Homelands, 10, 11.

Homeland Policy: The Core of Apartheid  |

duties formerly in regional hands were now given to Territorial Authorities, now themselves controlled by an executive council. Constitutional developments were supposed to be accelerated in a second phase, which was further divided into two stages. The first stage would see the inauguration of a legislative assembly. The second stage would then introduce the Bantustans as self-­governing territories within the republic, including their own cabinets run by Ministers, Chiefs and a Paramount Chief Minister. These steps were taken to set each Homeland on track as a self-­governing and independent nation. Practically speaking, each republic’s president could replace the Territorial Authorities of Homelands using the legislative assembly by means of proclamation. Different stages of self-­government were introduced in the Bantustans from the 1960s to 1980s. The Transkei had already been given self-­government status in 1963. Bophuthatswana, the Ciskei, Gazankulu, Lebowa, QwaQwa, Swazi, and Venda received independence in 1971, Kwazulu, after initial problems establishing a Territorial Authority, became self-­governing in 1972, KaNgwane in 1977, and in KwaNdbele in 1979. The assemblies could pass legislation. In all cases, the branches of defence, interior security, production, arms, foreign affairs, postal services, traffic, immigration, finances, revenue, information, and telecommunication remained within the controll of the South African parliament. Even in other divisions, the central South African government maintained an overwhelming influence. Only the president was entitled to declare a Homeland a self-­governing region, if requested by the parliament. Ciskei, Bophuthatswana, Lebowa, Venda, Gazankulu, QwaQwa, KwaZulu, KwaNdbele, and finally KaNgwane all were declared self-­governing regions over the course of the fifteen years from 1970 to 1985. The status change permitted the legislative assembly to amend certain South African laws for the benefit of their own territories. Homelands could now achieve formal independence by parliamentary decision. Only four Homelands were declared independent states: the Transkei (1976), Bophuthatswana (1977), Venda (1979), and Ciskei (1981). The Homeland constitution passed could then become legally binding. Only in areas where no Homeland legislation was passed did South African legislation prevail. Other than being renamed, official institutions remained largely the same – the Legislative Assembly was now the National Assembly, the Chief Minister a Prime Minister. Nevertheless, the government in Pretoria maintained a great influence in all things political, financial, and ­personal.353 Spatial engineering, often encompassing territories that consisted of non-­ contiguous areas of poor land, unfit and really too small to support a settlement, 353 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 255 – 262.

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and social or ethnic engineering designed to categorize the African population into traditional ethnic blocs according to linguistic affiliation were set up for failure. In part this was because relocation had eroded clear-­cut linguistic and tribal affiliations. In practice the two policies were thus contradictory. The forced relocation of more than 3.5 million people during Apartheid and territorial consolidation had to take into consideration the function of the intended separation and its resulting political, economic, and strategic issues.354 Apartheid planners separated white urban and rural zones from African settlements, and defined ethnic groups as well as their assigned Homelands. According to the Surplus People Project, white farmers complained that the Bantustans were getting too much land. Bantustan governments complained that they were getting too little.355 The state used the existing territorial gaps at every level of segregation to preserve its political and economic power, using geographical tactics in a divide-­and-­ conquer policy. In the case of two adjoining Homelands, ethnic categorisation and the demarcation of political space were the parameters of separation for Bantustan. According to Isert, consolidation was not only aimed at the amalgamation of African territories into larger units as stipulated by the Tomlinson Commission, but also aimed at weakening the African population politically by eliminating ethnic consolidation.356 Thus, Homeland policy was characterised by obvious contradictions. As mentioned above, Apartheid was built on assumptions, even without considering their ethical implications, that doomed the project to failure. As stated by Cosmas Desmond, a priest who spoke out against forced relocation: ‘[a] glance at […] the map [….] shows, how much sorting out of land is needed to eliminate the chess board pattern. When the whole process is finished, Africans, numbering fifteen million at the last census, will have 13.7 per cent of the land surface. Whites, numbering about three and a half million, will have 86.3 per cent. In the meantime, Africans do not have even as much as their promised 13.7 per cent, what they have is a large degree economically marginal land – too mountainous, or too dry, or too remote from markets and means of transport to be productive.’357 It is important to keep these facts in mind when analysing the engineering of Apartheid. How did a system, built on seemingly impossible structures, manage to survive for 46 years? Considering the facts of geographic conditions and national population distribution, as well as bearing in mind the goal of complete 354 Ibidem, 131. 355 Platzky, Walker, Forced Removals, 38. 356 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 134, 135. 357 Cosmas Desmond, “The Discarded People”. Penguin African Library (Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1971), 21.

Homeland Policy: The Core of Apartheid  |

segregation, it is obvious that the planners were engineering white supremacy, not the natural growth of a society. Extending previous colonial practices, the Apartheid regime based its post-­colonial rule on the construct of national identities. A. J. Christopher has argued that the de facto division of South Africa between whites and blacks during European colonial settlement was the territorial basis of the political partition. The white minority not only wanted to maintain its power, but to be alone in an all-­white state. The policy of separate development, or Apartheid, sought the establishment of federal states linked only for some purposes at the federal level. Territorial planning had to foster the transformation from disparate Native Reserves to new states. In addition, planning required boundaries for each respective state that included as many members of particular ethnic groups as possible. Due to the complex distribution of the population and the position of the whites, these were highly contentious issues. National consolidation differed greatly from geographic consolidation, especially in the case of KwaZulu.358 Until today, the geographic consolidation of the South African Homelands has rarely been documented. The South African Institute of Race Relations published fragmentary data about Homeland consolidation at irregular intervals. Data circulated by the government or made available in secondary literature is often imprecise. On maps, it is hard to see the difference between Homelands that existed and those that were merely planned.359 The Tomlinson Commission proposed a general consolidation based on the paradigm of ethnic consolidation. The postulated linguistic grounds coincided with general ethnic bonds, turning the artificial fragmentation of the African population into a problem. The blocs within the ‘Bantu ethnic areas’360 described in this chapter were constructs rendered to gain greater control over the African population. The government published its first consolidation proposals in 1972.361 The South African government wanted to enforce Homeland policies after the Bantu Homeland Citizenship and Constitution Acts had passed. Data on the expansion of the Bantustans provides numbers ranging between 9.1 and 10.5 million hectares of so-­called quota land, and 5 and 5.32 million hectares of non-­quota land.362 The 358 A. J. Christopher, “Partition and Population in South Africa”, Geographical Review 72 (2) (1982) 127 – 138: 127, 130, 138. 359 See appendix 2, 2.2, maps 5 – 14. 360 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 207. See appendix 2, 2.1, map 1. 361 Platzky, Walker, Forced Removals, 38. 362 The term quota land refers to the areas that were purchased under the stipulations of the 1936 Land Act, which added the additional 6 per cent of land that had to be purchased from ‘willing’ white farmers by the Trust. Deborah Potts, “Land Alienation under Colonial and

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consolidation proposals aiming at relocating Black Spots and unifying small fragmented areas were adjusted as the government saw fit.363 Proposals from 1973 and 1975 were less ambitious than those of the Tomlinson Commission; they formed the basis of the present states.364 In reordering territories, no areas of economic importance were added to the black states and urban centres remained in white hands. The town of Pietersburg, hemmed in by Lebowa, Durban, and KwaZulu, remained white. Table 2.6: Quota and Non-­Quota Land, 1 January 1976 Area (Hectares)

Quota Land

Homelands

Trust vested

Non-­Quota Land Trust acquired

Black acquired

Black owned Black acprior to quired after 31 Aug. 31 Aug. 1936 1936

Trust vested

Trust acquired

Transvaal Lebowa

278,503

1,081,361

230,922

560

69,143

4,902

530

Gazankulu

387,711

215,933

7,907

18,530

Swazi

151,529

114,001

4,028

5,167

49,185

657,304

129,955

506,489

347,489

101,071

5,862

17,271

3,255

51,060

121,8232

2,289,873

53,966

115,462

5,239

143,766

74,833

495,523

134,038 48,022

South Ndebele

Bophuthatswana Venda KwaZulu Total

455

414,767

39,824

44,483 18,619

27,336

2,088

139,800

15,177

177,807

700

13,843 383,576

770,312

19,074

818,036

57,789

2,867

32,282

9,031

84,471

1,661

729,662

11,969

3,553

3,482,708

11,986

24,893

25,552

4,433

1,386,481

195,911

754,751

23,884

142,305

9,645

5,598,851

231,773

355,372

17,847

138,945

1,854

2,604,016

7,209

53,972

1,993

26,903

723

20,725

11,527

Cape Province Ciskei Transkei Bophuthatswana Total Natal KwaZulu Orange Free State Bophuthatswana QwaQwa

5,417

Total Grand Total

1,400,292

42,827

59,389

1,993

26,903

723

63,552

11,527

3,459,385

427,300

1,078,465

31,296

9,054,455

308,298

White Settler Governments in Southern Africa: Historical Land ‘Grabbing’”. John Anthony Allan et al. (eds.), “Handbook of Land and Water Grabs in Africa: Foreign Direct Investment and Food and Water Security”. (Abingdon, New York, NY : Routledge; 2013), 24 – 42: 34 363 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 142, 144. 364 See appendix 2, 2.1, maps 2, 3.

Homeland Policy: The Core of Apartheid  |

Quota Land Trust vested land

Government land in released areas (Act No. 10 of 1936) which was vested in the Trust in terms of Section 6 (1)(b) Trust acquired land Land acquired by the Trust after 1936 outside the scheduled Black areas (Act No. 27 of 1913) which was situated in the released areas and adjoining them (Act No. 18 of 1936) or adjoining Black scheduled areas (Act No. 27 of 1913) Black acquired land Land acquired by Blacks in 1936 outside the scheduled Black areas, which was situated in released areas and adjoining them or adjoining Black scheduled areas. Non-Quota Land Black owned on Land owned by Blacks prior to the Bantu Trust and Land Act No. 18 of 31 Aug. 1936 1936 Black acquired after Land acquired by Blacks in scheduled Black areas 31 Aug. 1936 Trust vested land Government land in scheduled Black areas which was vested in the Trust Trust acquired land Land acquired by the Trust in scheduled Black areas T. Malan, P. S. Hattingh, Black Homelands in South Africa (Pretoria: African Institute of South Africa, 1976). Original Source: Department of Bantu Administration and Development. Unpublished data.

A significant change occurred in 1980. Mafeking (Mafikeng), a medium-­sized white town, was given over to a black state, Bophuthatswana. The Consolidation Commission made a number of significant proposals for incorporating additional white areas into the black states without the displacement of the existing white population. However, the resistance by the South African government to incorporate King William’s Town into Ciskei in 1981 seemed to mark the end of any major changes in this direction.365 After 1975, it became clear that Homeland consolidation would take decades and decimate the national budget. By 1980/81 the costs for consolidation measures had risen from an estimated 417 million Rand to 520 million Rand. The SADT was supposed to provide 57 million Rand for the purchase of land. There were 380 million reserved for relocations. In an attempt to reduce the economic and political costs of spatial engineering, Homeland policy invoked the idea of a ‘constellation of states.’ The economic development of the Homelands became more important than spatial planning.366 Despite a changed focus and a great deal of effort, most Homelands still consisted of more than one territorial unit, making administrative work complicated. 365 Christopher, Partition and Population, 130, 131. 366 Malan, Hattingh, Black Homelands, 29, 30. Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 143, 144, 145.

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The Race Relations Survey from 1980 stated that ‘in the framework of the consolidation of states concept the whole question of land might not be all important’. Shifting the focus away from consolidation and encouraging economic cooperation between now independent states 367 made granting the independent status to Homelands more acceptable. The new states did not need distinct and closed areas of land, but inter-­state exchange. This was expected to minimise costs and increase the availability of an African labour force. Territorial questions, which had repeatedly been raised by the Homeland governments, were now subordinated to political and economic aims. The Land Act of 1936 and the 1975 proposals remained the basis of governmental policies in reference to spatial and ethno-­ political divisions in South Africa. The once proposed expansion of the Bantustans by 13.7 per cent was never achieved. The 1955 level of 12.9 per cent increased by a mere 0.5 per cent over the next three decades.368 2.3.3 The Homelands

It makes sense to take a closer look at the consolidation of individual Homelands to understand how different forces and actors influenced this consolidation. Homeland policy was the most important part of racial and spatial segregation, but the Apartheid government was not the only actor in this process. There were also forces beyond the control of the South African state. Homeland governments and African elites tended to their own interests, these often different from those of the majority of the African population. Race was not the only aspect dividing South African society; economic and social classes also factored into the equation. Describing the process of territorial consolidation of individual Homelands reveals the complex pattern of different political and economic interests, the distribution of power in the Homeland society, and the agreements reached between Homeland elites. According to Butler, Rotberg, and Adams, consolidated Homelands were ruled by four principles: (1) adherence to the Land Acts of 1913 and 1936, (2) reducing the number of isolated areas, (3) maintaining the republic’s infrastructure and corridors, and (4) maintaining control of the ports. These principles caused the fragmentation of Bantustans like KwaZulu and Bophuthatswana.369 367 Loraine Gordon, “A Survey of Race Relations in South Africa 1980”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1981), 390. 368 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 145, 146, 147, 150. 369 Butler, Rotberg, Adams, Black Homelands, 17, 18.

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2.3.3.1 Transkei

There is a great variety of data on the geographical size of the Transkei, figures ranging at different times between 34,000 km2 and 45,000 km2. According to Albrecht Isert, territorial development expanded the Homeland areas from 33,000 km2 to 43,000 km2.370 The Tomlinson Commission had planned the Transkei as ‘nuclear point’ for the isiXhosa-­speaking population. ‘The so-­called South-­ Eastern Nguni Bloc [called bloc F by the Tomlinson Commission, K. L.] […], including the Ciskei, surround this area.’ The South African government rejected the proposal of such a powerful, territorially closed Xhosa area. When it received independence in 1976, Transkei, situated between the Umtamvuma River and the Great Kei River, was the largest Homeland that existed. The eastern border was formed by the Indian Ocean and the Drankensberg Mountains flanked the region to the West. The area consisted of three land blocks. In 1970, there was a de facto population of 1,914,190.371 The Transkei consisted of three areas after the consolidation proposals of 1975, when the Ciskei became part of the territory. On 1 December 1975, the district of Glen Grey was unified with Herschel. In 1976, the farming areas of Boschfontein and Welteveden as well as the white enclave of Port St Johns also joined Transkei. On 26 October 1976 Transkei officially received independence. Territorial demands made earlier by the Transkei government remained unresolved however. In 1978 Transkeian Chief Minister Matanzima broke off diplomatic relations with Pretoria, after East Griqualand, a region Matanzima had wanted to be integrated into Transkei, was given to Natal. Diplomatic relations were re-­established, however, by 1980. The territorial question was debated in non-­public meetings over the next years. A territorial consolidation never occurred.372

370 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 155. 371 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 180, 181, 182. Malan, Hattingh, Black Homelands, 213. See appendix 2, 2.2, maps 7 – 9. The territorial consolidation of Transkei amounted to a hard disagreement between the South African government and Chief Minister Kaiser Matanzina, who demanded the whole area between Fish River and the border to Natal. After declaring the land question to be of paramount importance for his intended ‘separate development’ on the 1971 party congress of his Transkei National Independence Party, he reduced his demands during the talks with the central government, demanding only independence. His demands to incorporate white areas within Transkei and the demanded unification with Ciskei had turned out to be non-­negotiable for the Pretoria government. 372 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 156, 157, 158. See appendix 2, 2.2, maps 8, 9.

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2.3.3.2 Ciskei

The Ciskei, situated between the Great Fish River in the south and the Great Kei River in the north, was supposed to become a Xhosa territory, together with Transkei. After consolidation, the Homeland was to become a block of 816,208 ha. After the excision of the Herschel and Glen Grey districts in 1975, the Ciskei’s remaining districts were Hewu, Kreiskammahoek, Middledrift, Victoria East, Mdantsane, Peddie, and Zwelitsha. The topography varied from rolling hills and flatlands to a more mountainous landscape.373 The Tomlinson Commission had not planned Ciskei as its own ethnic-­national complex. The commission saw the ‘south-­Eastern Nguni Bloc’ as the home area of the Nguni of Southern Natal, the Transkei, and the Ciskei.374 It was planned to establish a separate Ciskei Homeland later. While there was little territorial spread, the consolidation created a closed geographic area. The loss of the Herschel and Glen Grey districts in 1975 was never compensated. In general, the pattern of the Ciskei consolidation was strongly influenced by the bargaining power of Transkei Chief Minister Matanzima. According to Wotshela, it was its status as a ‘model Homeland’ that enabled the Transkei to secure the Glen Grey and Herschel districts.375 This is also an example of territorial manipulation, as well as of the negative interplay between the Homeland governments, which aimed at preserving the power of the Apartheid government. Initial plans for the partial consolidation of the Ciskei were presented and accepted by parliament as early as 1972. These plans comprised 126,000 ha quota land and 58,000 ha compensatory land for Black Spots. The number of single areas was reduced from 21 to 19. The bigger land block, Middledrift-­Kreiskammahoek-­ Mdantsane, served as a nucleus. The previous constellation, consisting of one large core, Ciskei, and a smaller area, ‘Snippet Ciskei’, was slowly dissolved. Chief Minister Mabandla and his successor, Lennox Sebe, criticized the delay in the consolidation and demanded a contiguous territory to be formed between the coast and the Stormberg Mountains, and the Kei and Fish Rivers. Ciskei had formed its own legislative assembly in 1972 and this body came under the leadership of Sebe and the Ciskei National Independence Party (CNIP ). Sebe’s Homeland government claimed four additional areas, meant to strengthen agrarian production and provide the district with steady access to water resources. These changes and 373 Malan, Hattingh, Black Homelands, 131. 374 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission Report, 180. 375 Luvuyo Wotshela, “Territorial Manipulation in Apartheid South Africa: Resettlement, Tribal Politics and the Making of the Northern Ciskei”. 1975 – 1990, Journal of Southern African Studies, 30, 2 (2004), 317 – 337: 331.

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requests, however, did not affect the distribution of land. The demanded incorporation of King William’s town was denied by its white inhabitants in 1981. Ciskei itself achieved independence on 4 December 1981, albeit without fixed borders.376 2.3.3.3 KwaZulu

In 1976, the KwaZulu Homeland consisted of 44 scattered and detached land units spread over an area of 3,173,263 ha in the Natal Province. Another 68,158 ha were located in the Transvaal near the province’s borders with Natal and Swaziland. According to the 1975 consolidation proposals, KwaZulu was to consist of only ten detached land units. KwaZulu offered rich topographic variety, including coastal plains in the North, hilly terrain in the South, and access to five important perennial rivers: The Usutu, Pongola, Tugela, Unkomaas, and Uzimkulu.377 KwaZulu did not change its territorial boundary between 1955 and 1981. At the beginning of the 1970s, the size of the scheduled areas became slightly greater, at 27,500 km2. Of this, 26,100 km2 were owned by the South African Bantu Trust (SABT ), which was the new name of the South African Native Trust. In November of 1973, there were 55,000 ha of quota land and 15,000 ha of non-­quota land. At this time, 395,000 of ha quota land in Natal had already been purchased, but 378,000 ha were owned by the Trust and only 17,500 ha by Africans. As in the case of other Homelands, the constitutional development of KwaZulu was limited by the land question. Chief Executive Council Gatsha Buthelezi, a supporter of the Bantustan policy, claimed more land and the consolidation of a less scattered territory to create a state in 1970. Consolidation of the Bantustans in the 1970s was affected by tensions between the Homeland governments and white farmers. Buthelezi demanded that Richards Bay be turned into a seaport for KwaZulu. The Deputy Minister of Transportation turned him down, and President Vorster held to the stipulations of the 1936 Land Act.378 The government published initial consolidation plans as early as 1972. Zulu spokesmen and farmers greatly criticized these plans in public hearings. According to these plans, the overall area of the Homeland was supposed to encompass roughly 3,364 million hectares. This plan included compensation for the bad quality of the ground, allowing land exchanges between Africans and white farmers to exceed the land quota of 1936. Territorial supplements were prearranged in the districts of Dundee, Alfred, Mpendle, Babanago, Tongaland, and in the 376 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 150, 151, 152. Wotshela, Territorial Manipulation, 322. 377 Malan, Hattingh, Black Homelands, 159. See appendix 2, 2.2, map 10. 378 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 162.

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Umfolozi Game Reserve. Many Reserves on the coast, in the interior, and along the Pongola River received additional strips of land.379 There were large numbers of people who had to resettle: 343,132 Africans, 8,479 Asians, 6,157 Whites, and 2,513 Coloureds. The Homeland’s fragmentation was to be reduced to ten areas. When the plans were up for reconsideration, however, both parties declined. According to the new plans, 40 small Reserves were supposed to be dissolved. The number of Africans selected for relocation was supposed to be limited to 132.380 Buthelezi deemed these changes unacceptable and declined to cooperate in the resettlement of the African population. KwaZulu, however, managed to claim 17 white towns, including Empangeni, Eshowe, Melmoth Atanger, and Mtunzini. KwaZulu had the highest degree of fragmentation; thus the consolidation processes affected white interests more than in other areas. As a result, the consolidation here involved integrated white territory with accessible important ports and towns in Natal. All of the roads from the coast to inland areas remained on white territory. The roads from Durban via Peitermaritzburg to Ladysmith, from Richards Bay to Vryheid, and from Sordwana Bay to Pongola were under white control. The implementation of further consolidation plans turned out to be difficult due to resistance from white farmers’ associations, African communities, and the government of KwaZulu. In 1981, Sondwana Bay, in Driefontein Block, was to be separated from KwaZulu, its inhabitants facing relocation. Minister Gerhard Koornhoof defined the resulting Zulu resistance as the main problem of the consolidation policy. Soon, however, the cession of KaNgwane and Ingwavuma districts to Swaziland were negotiated. This was a territorial reorganization based on ethnic differences.381 It was necessary to introduce another facet of social engineering in South Africa at this point. The negotiations with Swaziland were more complicated because Swaziland was an internationally recognized state. Swaziland annexed both regions in 1982. The transfers were based on the concept of ethnic and linguistic unity. This cessation caused major waves of protest. The Natal Provincial Administration, the KwaZulu government, the affected Swazi chiefs, the leaders of K ­ aNgWane, the ANC , and diverse African organisations, rejected it. Negotiations about exchanging land between Koornhoof and Buthelezi failed. As Professor Eileen Jensen Krige from the University of Natal explained at the time, most Ingwavuma inhabitants were Zulu or Thembe-­Tonga. The western part of the 379 Ibidem, 163, 164, 165. See appendix 2, 2.2, map 6. 380 Ibidem, 166. 381 Isert, Homeland-­Politik.167. See appendix 2, 2.2, map 6.

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area was 50 per cent Swazi.382 The Council of Swazi Chiefs of South Africa and the Inyatsiya ya Mswati movement in KaNgwane both supported the territories’ inclusion into Swaziland.383 Legal courts in Natal, however, declared the transfers null and void. Pretoria left the issue in the hands of the two Homelands, which bore no results.384 The consolidation of the KwaZulu Bantustan is an excellent example of the complicated network of actors in the process of implementing Apartheid policies. Using scholars like Krige in this context was nothing unusual. South African ethnologists like Geoffrey Cronjé (Pretoria University) or representatives of the South African Bureau of Racial Affairs (SABRA ) had presented the notion of basic differences between African ethnic groups as early as the 1960s. These hypotheses helped to mask the racist consensus of Apartheid.385 The arguments of Krige were part of this discursive tradition. On 1 February 1977, KwaZulu became an autonomous state, although it did not consent to the independence as granted by the South Africa.386 2.3.3.4 Bophuthatswana

The consolidation of Bophuthatswana was complicated, to say the least. It was originally based on the consolidation of Tswanaland, also referred to as the Western Areas, which in 1936 consisted of 36 individual areas. The consolidation was based on the ethnic quota of Tswana people in the Transvaal and Cape Provinces. Thaba Nchu, originally in the Orange Free State, became part of Tswanaland. The Tomlinson Commission proposed a ‘group A consisting of three parts,’ these being the Tswana regions. The heart of group A was supposed to be Bechuanaland, outside the South African Union. The principle of Homeland consolidation by way of exchange of ‘Bantu land’ and ‘European land’ made sense in Bophuthatswana, because of the high fragmentation and widespread spatial distribution of the single areas.387 382 Chief Matsenjewa is reported to have stated, however, that Swazi were forced to register as Zulu to get pensions, affecting the actual numbers. Peter Randall, Carole Cooper, “A Survey of Race Relations 1982”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1981), 378. 383 Carole Cooper, Shireen Motala, Colleen McCaul, Thabiso Ratsomo, Jennifer Shindler, “Survey of Race Relations 1983”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1984), 326, 327. 384 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 168. 385 Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 189, 191. 386 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 169. 387 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 180, 182. See appendix 2, 2.2, map 12.

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Consolidation did not make much progress until the 1970s. Much as done by Sebe Matanzima and Buthelezi, Chief Councillor/Chief Minister Lucas Mangope tried to combine constitutional development and territorial extension as part of the Bophuthatswana National Party’s platform. Initial consolidation proposals from 1972 reduced the number of 8 greater and 11 smaller land blocks, to 3 and 6 respectively. Mangope wanted to incorporate all areas inhabited by a Tswana majority, including its white population. ‘Semi-­final plans’ from 1973 were rejected by the Legislative Assembly of the Bantustan.388 These plans had included the increase of the Homeland area of 605,000 hectares assigned to white landownership, and 352,000 hectares set aside for the Homeland South-­Ndebele and white territorial gains. Two areas were supposed to be linked to the purchase of farms along the border to Botswana. One hundred and twenty thousand Tswana were affected by these proposals.389 The Bantu Affairs Administration Board supported a Homeland Consolidation featuring Mafikeng as its capital; Mangope, however, failed to link independence to territorial gains. Bophuthatswana was given independence on 6 December 1977. The plans had not changed much since the early 1970s.390 On 1 January 1976, Bophuthatswana covered an area of 3,826,093 ha, thus constituting the second largest Homeland in South Africa. It was a relatively dry area. Three river collecting areas, the Molopo, Limpopo, and Vaal Rivers, dominated the drainage system of the Bantustan.391 In the course of further consolidation processes, seven territorial units emerged. In the end, the white areas Thaba Nchu, Taung, and Mafeking/Mafikeng were integrated into these areas.392 Because of relocations, political problems emerged in the region of Winterveld , 30 km south-­west of Pretoria. This led to police intervention. Winterveld had rural African private land tenure, but was later used as a refuge for dispossessed Africans, the majority of whom were non-­Tswana people. This was contradictory to the idea of ethnic homogeneity in the name of a strong Bophuthatswana nationalism. The Non-­Tswana people had to endure control and oppression by the Homeland administration for several years.393 A central topic for the streamlining of local government structures and their increasing complexity was regionalisation. In 1982, the Department of Planning instituted a series of eight, later nine planning regions, to coordinate national 3 88 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 171. 389 Muriel Horrel, “The African Homelands”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1973), 33. 390 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 171, 172. 391 Malan, Hattingh, Black Homelands, 113. 392 Christopher, Partition, 130. 393 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 172, 173.

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planning especially related to economic development. The regions were based on major metropolitan regions and incorporated the Bantustans.394 The national government placed high expectations on the region north of Pretoria (the PWV area: Pretoria-­Witwatersrand and the Vaal Triangle), stretching from West-­Transvaal to Richards Bay. The promise of additional land and financial support for the administrations of so-­called growth-­points (groiepunts) was supposed to eventually turn these areas into settlements for labourers, converting them into reservoirs for the urban-­industrial development of the PWV area. This policy was meant to absorb the labour reserves of the Homelands’ commuters. There were similar plans for Thaba Nchu.395 2.3.3.5 Venda

Venda was the smallest Homeland in South Africa. In 1962, the South African Government created Venda as a Homeland for the Venda-­speaking people. The Tomlinson Commission had designated the ‘Venda-­Tsonga Bloc’. The commission had recognized that Tsonga, Sotho, and Venda people all lived in Area B.396 The area set aside for the Bantustan was located in the north-­east of South Africa, close to the Zimbabwe border and Kruger National Park. Its capital was Thohoyandou. In 1976, Venda consisted of three land units with a combined area of 650,200 ha. The largest block of land extended from Limpopo southwards to Louis Trichardt, while two smaller blocks were situated to the west and south of this town.397 Looking at the map, it becomes clear that the South African central government had saved various geographical interests for the white population. The railway, the main road from Pieterburs to the Rhodesian border, and the rivers all remained under white control.398 The Homeland was declared self-­governing on 1 February 1973. The territory was declared independent by the South African government on 13 September 1979, and its de facto and de jure residents lost their South African citizenship. The international community, however, did not recognise its independence.399

3 94 Christopher, Atlas of Apartheid, 55. 395 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 175. 396 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 180, 181. See appendix 2, 2.1, map 1. 397 Malan, Hattingh, Black Homelands, 229. 398 See appendix 2, 2.2, maps 3, 4. 399 Muriel Horrel, Dudley Horner, “A Survey of Race Relations 1973”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1974), 161, 162.

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2.3.3.6 Gazankulu

Gazankulu covered an area of ca. 674,564 ha. The consolidation plans of 1975 aimed at combining four separate units into three. The largest part of Gazankulu, defined by the central government as the Changana-­Tonga Homeland, was situated north of the Letaba River and also bordered Kruger National Park. Two smaller units lay in the vicinity of Tzaneen, with the Shingwidzi, Letaba, and Sabie Rivers.400 According to the survey of the Surplus People Project, Gazankulu was a clear-­ cut example of ethnic engineering, planned as a regional block for the Tsonga-­ speaking people. In 1970, only 41 per cent of Tsonga-­speakers lived in Gazankulu. The rest lived in other Homelands or white areas. The government managed to shift Tsongas into Gazankulu and non-­Tsongas into other Homelands bringing the proportion of Tsonga-­speakers in Gazankulu to 43 per cent.401 The Tomlinson Commission report had recommended the creation of the Tsonga-­Venda heartland, as mentioned above,402 which influenced the later planning of a Tsonga-­Changana Bantustan. In several areas Tsonga-­speakers felt discriminated against by Venda and North-­Sotho chiefs. Complaints from Tsonga chiefs, leaders of the Tsonga Presbyterian Church, and the Department of Bantu Affairs and Development drew an ethnic border between Tsonga and Venda in 1963. Over 50,000 Tsonga people faced forced relocation. Gazankulu was declared a self-­governing territory in 1973 with Giyani as its capital.403 2.3.3.7 Lebowa

Lebowa was located in north-­eastern Transvaal. Seshego acted as interim capital during Lebowakgomo’s formation. Lebowa was granted internal self-­government in 1972, ruled by Cedric Phatudi for much of its existence. The territory was not contiguous, but divided into two major and several minor sections, consolidated according to plan into seven sections. The total area covered 2,268,257 ha.404 The creation of Lebowa serves as an example of failed ethnic engineering. The Tomlinson Commission had assigned the region to ‘bloc A’, the Tswana Bloc, with Bechuanaland (not belonging to South Africa) as its centre. The commission reported that people from different tribes lived in the Western Areas, but assigned 4 00 Malan, Hattingh, Black Homelands, 145. See appendix 2, 2.1, map 2, 3, 4. 4 01 Platzky, Walker, Forced Removals, 125, 126. 4 02 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 181. See appendix 2, 2.1, map 1. 4 03 Platzky, Walker, Forced Removals, 127. 4 04 Malan, Hattingh, Black Homelands, 175.

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them, with the exception of the South Ndebele, to the same category as the inhabitants of Bechuanaland despite their historical, linguistic, and cultural differences. Lebowa included swathes of Sekukuniland and was seen as a possible home for the Northern Sotho tribes, such as the Pedi people. Several non-­Northern Sotho tribes, including the Northern Ndebele, Batswana, and the VaTsonga lived in the area as well.405 This example shows that ethnic classification was often made by chance. However, as a result, a separate Homeland for the South Ndebele was created. 2.3.3.8 KwaNdbele

The Apartheid government intended KwaNdebele as a semi-­independent Homeland for the Ndebele people. It was founded in 1979. There is not much information, but according to Malan and Hattingh, it was planned in 1975.406 The Homeland was granted self-­rule in April 1981. Siyabuswa was designated as its capital, but in 1986, the capital was relocated to KwaMhlanga. The KwaNdebele legislature expressed interest in seeking independence in May 1982. First preparations were made, but the exceptional lack of viability in economic affairs together with land disputes prevented independence from being instituted.407 2.3.3.9 QwaQwa

QwaQwa was situated in the central eastern part of South Africa, encompassing a comparatively small region of only 48,244 ha in the east of Orange Free State, bordering Lesotho at the Caledon River. From there, it bordered Mont Aux Sources in the south. The watershed between the Orange and Eland River basins formed the border to Natal. After 1975, it was extended to the north. Its capital was Phuthaditjhaba. It was designed as a national unit for more than 180,000 Sesotho-­speaking Basotho people.408 2.3.3.10 KaNgwane

KaNgwane was intended as a semi-­independent Homeland for the Swazi people, also referred to as the Swazi Territory before it was granted nominal self-­rule in 4 05 Union of South Africa, Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 180. 4 06 Malan, Hattingh, Black Homelands, 175. 4 07 Richard L. Abel, “Politics by Other Means: Law in the Struggle Against Apartheid, 1980 – 1994”. (New York: Routledge, 1995), 438. 4 08 Malan, Hattingh, Black Homelands, 191. See appendix 2, 2.2, maps 2 – 4.

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1981. Its capital was Louieville, formerly KaNyamasane. Its Chief Minister was Enos Mabuza. It was the least populous of the ten Homelands, with an estimated 183,000 inhabitants.409

2.4 Ethnic Categorisation and Population Distribution: Key Elements of Engineering Apartheid 2.4.1 Creating a Population Shift: South African Statistics

Did the policies of social engineering favour a higher proportion of whites in relevant South African territories and an ethnic homogeneity in the Bantustans? To understand the overall demographic developments, it is necessary to describe the change of the population distribution in South Africa between 1960 and 1985. The population censuses (1960, 1970, 1980, and 1985), the Bulletin of Statistics (1960 to 1984), and the Survey of Race Relations in South Africa (1963 to 1981) show the distribution of racial groups and their development within the country over several decades. Census records permit an overview of segregation efforts and their success. As stated above, Southern African population statistics must be used with caution, however, since they provided only partial data, as evident in appendix 1.410 Statistical information, however, is useful to show how social engineering worked. Apartheid was based on false premises, implementing segregated development in non-­viable states without enough territory that were intended to be inhabited by artificially constructed communities. Christopher has argued that population classification systems were an integral part of censuses, especially in colonial and post-­colonial societies. Assessments of ethnicity and race were essential to census processes in the British colonies in the 19th and 20th century, as well as in post-­colonial South Africa. According to Christopher, it is evident that any acceptable definition of the terms race and ethnicity is impossible.411 Moreover, human races do not exist biologically. Alan Templeton from the Department of Biology, Washington University, stated in 2013 that 4 09 Brian H King, “Spaces of change: Tribal Authorities in the Former KaNgwane Homeland, South Africa”. Area 37 (1) (2005), 64 – 72: 67. 410 See appendix 1: Population Statistics South Africa. 411 A. J. Christopher, “To Define the Indefinable: Population Classification and the Census in South Africa”. Area 34 (4) (2002), 401 – 408: 401, 405.

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‘[…] modern biological concepts of race can be implemented objectively with molecular genetic data through hypothesis-­testing. Genetic data sets are used to see if biological races exist in humans and our closest evolutionary relative, the chimpanzee. Using the two most commonly used biological concepts of race, […] humans are not […] subdivided into races. Adaptive traits, such as skin colour, have frequently been used to define races in humans, but such adaptive traits reflect the underlying environmental factor to which they are adaptive and not overall genetic differentiation, and different adaptive traits define discordant groups. There are no objective criteria for choosing one adaptive trait over another to define race. As a consequence, adaptive traits do not define races in humans. […].’412 Ethnicities are characterised by cultural connections, a vaguely defined concept in absence of any uniform or scientific classification. The notion exists that this is an attempt ‘to define the indefinable’, as has been stated by Christopher and Suzman.413 It might be impossible to get correct data on internal migration or precise numbers of South African inhabitants, but interpreting statistical parameters provides a picture of how population classification was used to support the system and attempt to maintain control over the African majority. The complexity of and the frequent changes in the population classification system are remarkable, however. They show the effort of the Apartheid engineers to change the South African population into a predominantly white one. Most later official statistics exclude the population of the four formally independent Homelands of Transkei, Ciskei, Bophuthatswana, and Venda, utilizing territorial data to manipulate the overall results. Following the regionalisation concept of the central government, the 1985 census documents the population numbers and distribution of the nine planning regions of the country instead of the numbers in the provinces and Homelands. This makes it hard to compare it to data from previous years.414 As a result, the proportion of whites in the population does not decline much after 1970. Only the 1960 and 1970 censuses include all of South Africa. The 1960 data uses the provinces as reference regions. Nevertheless, there is a first effort to increase the proportion of the white population. There are two numbers for the 412 Alan R. Templeton, “Biological Races in Humans”. Studies in History and Philosophy of Science Part C: Studies in History and Philosophy of Biological and Biomedical Sciences 44 (3) (2013), 262 – 271: 262. 413 Christopher, To Define the Indefinable, 401. Athur Suzman, “Race Classification and Definition in the Legislation of the Union of South Africa, 1910 – 1960: A Survey and Analysis”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1960), 367. 414 See appendix 1, 1.2, tables 2, 3 (a and b), 1.3, table 4, 1.4, table 21. The nine development regions are documented in appendix 2, 2.3, map 15.

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Cape and Natal, excluding Transkei and Zululand. The census of 1970 is more complex in its territorial and ethnic partitions. White areas are separated from Bantu Homelands. The population is not only divided into the standardized racial categories (i. e. White, Coloured, Asian, Bantu), but the African population is further categorized according to distinct linguistic groups (by 1980, a total of 19). South Africa is partitioned into ‘Provinces’ and ‘Homelands’. Transkei, Bophuthatswana, and Venda are excluded from the census.415 Excluding territories is a simple strategy for eliminating numerical data on a certain general population. In the case of South Africa, by doing this the proportion of the white population was statistically increased. According to information of the SAIRR and the Surplus People Project, almost 10 million African people were eradicated from population counts in in 1980.416 Actually relocating sections of a population and basing this on ethnic categories is much more complex. With reference to racial categories, there are some interesting changes between 1960 and 1985. The partition of the African population into ethnic-­linguistic groups in the censuses began with the 1970 census, which lists ten ‘Bantu National Units’ and a category that includes ‘Others’. The ethnic categories changed over time, offering interesting shifts regarding population partition and epistemic practices. The category ‘Population Group’ now described the former Bantu National Units as Blacks. These population groups differ marginally from the national units. The Sepedi and the Sheshoe groups are not included in the census, but a North-­Sotho and a South-­Sotho group are introduced in their stead. In the same period, the term Bantu was changed to Black in all legislative pieces. Like the shift from Native to Bantu, this process is not explained in official documents. However, it is interesting to look at the political processes these epistemic changes might reflect. In some cases, the administrative procedure of reclassification helped to reduce the number of Africans in a province or area. Christopher has pointed out, for example, that the Hottentot were included in the Coloured category in 1970, since they did not speak a Bantu language. This administrative process helped reduce the number of Africans in the Cape slightly in favor of the proportion of Coloureds. At the same time, Africans were physically expelled from an area declared a Coloured preference area.417 The change from tribal-­linguistic categories to classifying the African population as Black reflects the country’s political development. The term Black added a new dimension to racial segregation. According to William Beinart, the use of the word black in this context was 4 15 See appendix 1, 1.1 table 1, 1.2, tables 2, 3 (a and b), 1.3, table 4. 416 See appendix 1, 1.5, table 23, table 24. 417 Christopher, To Define the Indefinable, 405.

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in itself a challenge to Apartheid’s ethnic and racial labelling, an alternative to the negative non-­white (nie-­blanke) or non-­European labels, which were quite common. The importance of terminology in South Africa’s political debate has been shown above. The government’s adoption of Bantu rather than Native or African was essential to its policy shifting. As in the United States, where terms shifted from ‘Negro’ and ‘Coloured’ to ‘Black’ and finally to African-­American, terminology evokes a unified sense of racial identity (Black was borrowed from the United States, although it had already been in use in African languages: abantu abamnyama means ‘ordinary’ or ‘black people’ in Zulu). This insistence on black was so successful that Botha’s government itself abandoned the term Bantu and adopted the word Black in the 1980s.418 Census data show a large population growth between 1960 and 1985. With the exception of the four Homelands, officially the proportion of Whites in the population declines much more slowly after 1970. In 1985, it even reaches a peak of 19.5 per cent. In 1960 and 1980, the proportion of the African population was 68 per cent. Then in 1985 it was officially only 64.8 per cent. This was due to territorial boundaries being changed in the censuses, which had divided the country into white areas and (non-­independent) Bantu Homelands in 1970 and 1980. The exclusion of the independent Bantustan population increased the proportion of the white population significantly. This was, however, an illusion of course. In general, the proportion of the white population differed among individual provinces. In 1960 and 1970 the percentages of Whites in the provinces rose from 11 per cent to 29 per cent. In 1980, almost 30 per cent of the inhabitants in Transvaal were Whites. In comparison, the Orange Free State, at 16.9 per cent, had the lowest percentage of Whites. In the South African state as a whole, there were 18 per cent Whites, a lower proportion than in 1985. The 1985 census uses the development regions as territorial benchmarks. This change in the territories caused a remarkable shift in the population distribution. In the regions A, D, H, and J, the proportion of the White population increased to over 20 per cent, and even went up to 34.8 per cent in region H. Because of the partition of the Coloureds, Asians, and Africans, Whites officially formed the largest proportion of the inhabitants in the regions D, H and J. In the two Cape Regions A and B there was a Cape Malayan majority of over 40 per cent. In the development regions, including the Bantustans E, F, and G, there was a small proportion of Whites, with under 10 per cent reported. On a race identifying map, we see one part of South Africa with a high proportion of Whites and Coloureds from the southern Cape region up to the Transvaal, and another, black South Africa, at the eastern borders 418 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 233.

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of the country. The 1985 census creates the illusion of a separate white core with black borders. It is an illusion, because there was an African majority, even in the PWV area. If we exclude the subdivision of the African population, proportions become clearer. Most Coloured people lived only in the Western and Northern Cape regions. The other seven development regions were predominantly Black, although the proportion of Africans was artificially reduced through the exclusion of Transkei, Ciskei, Bophuthatswana, and Venda. The census also reflects the plans of the central government to create a development axis from the PWV area to Richards Bay, an area bordered by the labour reservoirs of the Homelands. The distribution of the Bantu National Units/Black Population Groups in each of the Bantustans was problematic. Even if the Transkei, Ciskei and KwaZulu achieved a near 100 per cent saturation of ethnic groups, there never was a ‘homogeneous’ population in the Bantustans as had been desired. Before becoming independent in 1976, the Xhosa people made up 90 per cent of the Transkei population, marking one of the more successful homogenous formations. Similar proportions were seen in the Ciskei until 1980, although data is inconclusive after 1980, when the census combined Ciskei and Gazankulu. Smaller Homelands were consolidated, with their population groups broken down by the central government. In KwaZulu, there was a Zulu population of almost 100 per cent, and in the combined development region KwaZulu and Natal it was 73.2 per cent. In other Homelands, there was less homogeneity however. I have mentioned the failure of ethnic engineering in the cases of Gazankulu and Venda above. The census of 1970 notes 90.2 per cent of that Homeland population as Venda. According to the 1970 census, Lebowa was inhabited by 83 per cent Sepedi (Sotho) people, 4 per cent North Ndebele, and 2.4 per cent South Ndebele. In 1980, after the consolidation of KwaNdbele, the population was 80.6 per cent North Sotho, 6 per cent North Ndebele, and 1.7 per cent South Ndebele. These numbers represent the failure of ethnic engineering. In 1970, before becoming independent, Bophuthatswana’s population was 60 per cent Tswana. According to the 1980 census, the proportion had decreased to 53.8 per cent, although the Homeland government was aiming at creating a homogeneous Tswana state. Despite the lack of accurate numbers, the censuses reflect the central state’s effort to segregate the population and to create a white South Africa. Even if this white South Africa was a myth from the beginning, it was theoretically designed with the help of pseudo-­scientific measures. The population distribution of the whole country was constant, but statistical services were able to manipulate the numbers by redefining territories and sections of population. There was not a real population shift, but the South African government created one.

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South African cartography of the 1970s also displays a pseudo-­scientific approach in how it depicts population and territorial breakdowns. The map ‘Racial Concentrations in South Africa’ provides icons for racial concentrations above 30 per cent of the population by district. Here, in black areas no other population groups are as high as 30 per cent.419 2.4.2 Forced Removals

The term ‘forced removals’ is flexible. It covers actions ranging from dispossession and forced relocation, already evident in the segregation era’s eviction of sharecroppers and the removal of Black Spots. The following focuses on the history of removals connected directly to social engineering as essential to Apartheid policies: the division and segregation of both population and territory, leading to the clear political subordination of the African majority. According to Christoph Marx, Apartheid policies employed six forms of removal: (1) influx control into the cities; (2) removals within the white cities; (3) removals from white cities into the Bantustans; (4) removal from white rural areas into the Bantustans; (5) relocating individuals from one Bantustan to another; (6) removals and forced displacement within the Bantustans.420 Again, I will often shift between macro and micro data. The review of forced resettlement actions is based on data generated by the Survey of Race Relations and the Surplus People Project. Individual case studies, illuminating the processes in different regions, were found in documents kept by the Secretary of Bantu Affairs and will be used to offer a more complete description of the efforts’ main goal – securing white supremacy. Lastly, the material presented here provides some insight into how forced removals led to uprisings and popular resistance as well as the general condemnation of the Apartheid regime. Urban Pass Laws and influx control, both mentioned above, were an expression of the regime’s attempts to fully enforce segregation and provide a racial division in all sectors of life. The urban workforce was turned into a migrant workforce by expelling long-­term settlers in urban townships to Bantustans in phases starting from 1960.421 The Surplus People Project estimates that from 1950 there were 834,000 forced removals under the Group Areas Act 41. The Act established separate housing zones in cities for the non-­white population, leading to 730,000

419 See appendix 2, 2.1, map 3. 420 Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 179. 421 Unterhalter, Forced Removals, 26.

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township relocations to Bantustans and 112,000 evictions of squatters in urban settlements.422 Rural developments are, however, the focus of this study. According to Elaine Unterhalter, there were three main forms of rural forced removal. The eviction of farm workers already mentioned, the dispossession of farmers through Betterment and land allocation schemes in the Bantustans, and, finally, the seizure of freehold land in Black Spots. Dispossessions based on the Betterment system already had a history, as seen in the examples above. Black Spot removals were linked to the Bantustan programme, and were, according to Feinberg and Horn, already an important topic in the discussion about land division after the implementation of the two Land Acts.423 Black Spots were a type of badly situated areas and were in the way of Homeland consolidation.424 The first attempts to remove such areas were undertaken as early as the 1920s. In 1926 the Magistrate of Vryburg, Bechuana­ land, mentioned the unsatisfactory state of 600 morgen of isolated area in the Madeakgam Reserve. According to the correspondence between the responsible Magistrates, Bantu Affairs Commissioners and the Secretary of Native Affairs, later the Secretary of Bantu Affairs, resettlement failed due to the opposition of the inhabitants.425 Systematic removals nonetheless were enforced in the phase of Grand Apartheid. The eviction of farm workers and labour tenants was largely the result of the development of capitalist commercial agriculture. Increasing mechanisation of white-­owned private farms from the 1950s onward and the reduction of the number of farm hands had consequences: a smaller demand for African farm workers and thus mass evictions of surplus people. This trend differed in its expression from region to region. Whites who lost their land because of eviction could find employment as civil servants. The state had abolished all forms of labour tenancy or squatting by 1980.426 An estimated 1,129,000 farm workers and labour tenants

4 22 See appendix 1, 1.5, table 25. 423 Unterhalter, Forced Removals, 93. Feinberg, Horn, Land Act, 66. 424 Isert, Homeland-­Politik, 134. 425 Magistrate Vryburg, Secretary of Native Affairs, Bantu Affairs Commissioner Vryburg, Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner Potchiefstrroom, Removal of the Madeakgam Reserve, No. 90/555, 2/7/5 (10) (after 1948), 22. 10. 1926 – 15. 8. 1959, NASA , SAB , NTS 7579 90/335, 1 – 362. 426 Unterhalter, Forced Removals, 96. Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 182. For a closer look at the legislation to abolish labour tenancy, see: Moray Hathorn, Dale Hutchinson, “Labour Tenants and the Law”. Christina Murray, Catherine O’Regan (eds.), “No Place to Rest. Forced Removals and the Law in South Africa”. (Cape Town: Oxford University Press, 1990), 194 – 214.

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were evicted between 1960 and 1982.427 The institute’s documents indicate that alternative accommodations were found for 19,953 families in 1958 and 1959, but specific relocation data for the period before 1960 is not available. Former squatters were supposed to find work as full-­time farm labourers or were to settle in a Bantustan under tribal conditions.428 Forced removals within and between the Bantustans were directly connected to the Betterment Schemes, with this connected to the attempt to develop export-­orientated farming sectors and to force communal farming into commercial agriculture. This proposal by the Tomlinson Commission, aimed at creating a class of black yeomen farmers, was deemed unacceptable by Apartheid government. The plans to implement Economic Farming Units, as shown above, were simply ignored. Instead, villagisation schemes and Betterment measures increasingly replaced EFU s. According to the analyses of Unterhalter and Marx, Betterment clearly changed when the Reserves were transformed into Bantustans. Instead of preventing an ecological collapse, they were conceived as dumping grounds for surplus people. The regime’s commitment to support the development of a private landowning class in the Homelands only manifested in the 1970s.429 Villagisation schemes in the Bantustans changed and created new actors; 30,000 people were resettled in Bantustans between 1960 and 1982 and 687,500 people were removed for the purpose of Bantustan consolidation. The Surplus People Project estimates the number of people relocated forcefully at 3.5 million between 1960 and 1982.430 According to Christoph Marx, this number should be raised to 8 million from the beginning of Apartheid due to coerced relocations by way of pass laws. The system of forced relocations was characterized by arbitrariness and unpredictability. According to the researchers of the Surplus People Project, there were different levels of state activities, but they were not computable with one another. Actions that were implemented were often not completed. After forcefully removing individuals, according to rumour at times without warning, and loading them onto trucks with some of their belongings, their houses were marked for demolition. It is clear that how this process developed depended on all involved.431 The investigation of removal schemes in the Survey of Race Relations of the SAIRR , as well as the descriptions of individual relocations in the archival 427 See appendix 1, 1.5, table 25. 428 Muriel Horrel, “A Survey of Race Relations in South Africa 1961”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1962) 104, 105. 429 Unterhalter, Forced Removals, 100. Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 184. 430 See appendix 1, 1.5, table 25. 431 Marx, Zwangsumsiedlungen, 184, 192. Platzky, Walker, Surplus People, 136.

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sources of the Secretary of Native/Bantu Affairs demonstrate show the erratic nature of the process and the lack of coordination of the authorities. In 1958 and 1959, the Mamathola tribe resisted a departmental plan to move from a watershed in the Wolkeberg Mountains in the Letaba District of the Eastern Transvaal to farming land at Metz. They did not budge until 1971.432 Half of Majeng’s inhabitants, a scheduled Reserve, resisted relocation, resulting in open conflict. According to territorial planning, Majeng protruded into a white area. Because of this fact, 433 African families, mainly working in the diamond mines, were supposed to be removed. Only 168 families agreed to go. The department banned tribal meetings in Majeng and sent bulldozers to tear down the tribe’s houses on 10 May 1971. In Machaviestad, near Potchefstroom, a group of 140 people under Chief Israel Mokate were removed to Rooiground near Maeking after a long fight. They left when the municipality impounded their livestock and thus defined them as illegal squatters. In their compensation area, however, there was no land for ploughing or any of the infrastructure necessary to accommodate these people.433 According to numbers from 1972 provided by SAIRR , 37,000 Africans were moved after 1970. Another 300,000 awaited resettlement. About 500 families were removed from a farm called Ruigtefontein near Waschbank, which was declared a Black Spot in July 1972. The families were relocated to Ekuvukeni, about 20 km away, but only landowners were compensated for their loss. Tenants received no compensation for loss of home if the dwelling had been built after 1967, the year the removal plans had been made public. Another 400 families were removed from Hobsland and Vulandondo in Natal and taken to a new township about 24 km south of Ladysmith. Hobsland people had been moved there in 1963 and had been promised this township as a home in perpetuity. In December 1971, 200 families making a living as labour tenants were resettled in the Msinga District in Natal. The department [of Bantu Affairs and Development?; K. L.] provided trucks and tents, but the people were not welcomed by the already established residents, who were living in poverty. Another 161 families were moved to Transvaal in January 1971 from a mission farm in Botsabelo to Motatema in Sekhukuneland 80 km away. Their protests, since

432 Muriel Horrel, “A Survey of Race Relations 1957 – 1958”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1959), 140. Muriel Horrel, Dudley Horner, John Kane-­Herman, “A Survey of Race Relations 1971”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1972), 116. 433 Horrel, Horner, Kane, Herman, Survey of Race Relations 1971, 115, 116, 117, 118.

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they were unable to keep their livestock or their workers, who were forced to become migrants, were ignored.434 In 1973, the SAIRR documented 404 hectares as purchased and 799 hectares expropriated as Black Spot land. About 14,584 hectares were purchased from areas surrounding the Homelands. The compensatory land added to the Bantustans measured 14,579 hectares.435 By 1974, at least 185,568 African people had been relocated, with almost 10,000 forced to resettle within just one year.436 By the end of the year 1976, this number had increased to 258,632 people.437 As early as 1952, the Secretary of Native Affairs had ordered the Native Commissioner in Queenstown to check the extent of land owned privately by Africans. The farms had an area of 228 morgen. In the whole district, land owned by Africans was 1,083 morgen.438 In 1960, compensatory land for the removal of Black Spots in the Eastern Cape was set aside. In the Queenstown District, however, there were no more Black Spots.439 Claims of private land from African or Coloured people in ‘white areas’ seem to have been more complicated. In 1963, Secretary D. Marais mentioned in a letter to the Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner in King Williamstown the right of ownership in areas set aside for whites claimed by non-­white people. He pointed out that the Bantu Affairs Commissioner had no jurisdiction to hold an inquiry, although the European Mrs. Hewsen claimed to have an interest in the land.440 The people from the Vlakfontein Reserve near Kuruman in the Northern Cape were forcibly resettled by 1967. The community was resettled on a barren farm in Kagong. There was no water for irrigation and the stony soil made it almost impossible for the community to raise crops or feed their livestock.441 434 Muriel Horrel, Dudley Horner, John Kane-­Herman, “A Survey of Race Relations 1972”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1973), 175, 176. It is not stated which department provided trucks and tents. 435 Horrel, Horner, Survey of Race Relations 1973, 146, 147. 436 Muriel Horrel, Dudley Horner, Jane Hudson, “A Survey of Race Relations 1974”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1975), 183. 437 Muriel Horrel, Carole Cooper, “A Survey of Race Relations 1977”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1978), 315. 438 Secretary of Native Affairs to the Native Commissioner, Queenstown, Native-­Owned Tribal Farms, N2/10/2 Main File, 20. 2. 1952, NASA , KAB (Magistrate Whittlesea, 1919 – 1975) (1/ WSA ) 80 N210/2. 439 Secretary of Native Affairs to the Native Commissioner, Queenstown, Opruiming van Swartkolle: Oos-­Kap, N2/10/2 Main File, 7. 11. 1960, NASA , KAB 1/WSA 80 N2/10/2. 4 40 Secretary D. Marais to Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner Kingwilliamstown, Right of Ownership of Property in Areas Set Aside for Whites, N2/10/2 Main File, 19. 9. 1963. 2. 10. 1963, NASA , KAB 1/WSA 80 N2/10/2. 4 41 Dikatso Mametse, “Back to their ancestral Land”. Mail &Guardian, 20. 3. 2003, http://mg.co. za/article/2003-03-20-back-­to-­their-­ancestral-­land, accessed 24. 10. 2016.

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In 1967, all officers and magistrates in the Department of Bantu Administration received a memorandum about the removal of Black Spots designed to regulate this process. In contrast to the arbitrariness and chaos of the actual forced removals, this document conveys the impression of a well-­ordered and competent procedure. Ownership rights in land vested to blacks in European rural areas were to be abolished. According to the memo, Africans had been asked to sell Black Spot land to exchange it with Europeans and they seemed to have no objection to sell land directly. The department allegedly considered the sale of compensatory land. There were various conditions for compensatory land. The area had to adjoin a scheduled or released area in the same district the Black Spot was in. There was, however, no guarantee that the compensation land would be located in the same district. If Africans owned more than 20 morgen of land, they supposedly had a right to compensatory land that had the same pastoral or agricultural value. Africans who owned less than 20 morgen could also get a site in a rural Bantu Township. The necessary conditions for resettlement included sufficient water supplies and that the Africans’ ethnicity fit into the new social environment. The opinion of the farmers’ union had also to be taken into consideration, if the European community resisted the acquisition of land. The evaluation of Black Spot land as well as the evaluation of compensatory land including necessary improvements. It was undertaken, however, not by the original inhabitant but by the Director of Bantu Agriculture. The responsible District Officer offered compensatory land to the Africans. The survey changes were presented to the members of the SANT . The transfer of Black Spot land to the government after its voluntary cession could supposedly take place after title deeds were obtained and forwarded. If Africans resisted the cessation, according to the memo, expropriation would follow. Before an expropriation took place, however, different bureaucratic steps had to be taken. The land of the Black Spot and the compensatory land both had to be evaluated. The state’s president had to secure the expropriation. All efforts to claim title deeds had to move through official channels. A final notice of expropriation had to be given to the land’s former owners. Africans refusing to leave their land had to be reported to the Department of Bantu Affairs and auxiliary police were to assist in their forced removal. Funds for the payment of compensations were obtained from the Department of Lands, acquired by local district officers. Compensation was not paid until the Africans had left, and the new titles to the compensatory land were to be similar, as far as it was practicable, to the conditions of tenure on their old land. Once an area was cleared, a regional representative of the Department of Lands took control of the former Black Spot land. The rules and regulations laid down in this memo were comprehensive, but it is impossible to ascertain how many of these rules were put into actual practice. As a side note, it seems ironic

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that the government requested the responsible administrative staff to inform Africans ‘tactfully’ about the fact that their land is situated in a European area and that their removal is necessary.442 According to official Black Spot documents, ethnic compatibility is sometimes mentioned as a problem in removal processes. On 11 September 1968, after a Black Spot removal had taken place, the Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner of the Eastern Cape requested the Bantu Affairs Commissioner Whittlesea to resettle Africans in Lesseyton and Released Area 43. The Bantu Affairs Commissioner Whittlesea informed his superiors about an ethnic problem on 19 September 1968. It turned out that Xhosa and two Sotho families were living on the Trust farms in the Released Areas 43. The certificate of occupation from the former Black Spot listed nine Tembu and one Fingo family. Residing in Lesseyton were 5 Tembu and 27 Fingo families. Nevertheless, the Tembu and Fingo families held the land in freehold under title deed and could not easily be forced to share it with new inhabitants.443 The Bantustans were designed as new housing and homes for the relocated people, but also as a way to control them. It became evident that settlement schemes had to adapt to the increasing number of people being resettled. After 1967, the Bantu Affairs Department gave the Bantustan governments the order to provide four types of settlements for the people who had been forcibly removed: (1) Self-­contained towns to rehouse inhabitants of former municipal townships and workers in border industries, (2) towns deeper in the Homelands for the families of migrant workers, (3) residential areas for evicted tenants of farms and Black Spots who had to build their own houses, and (4) areas of ‘controlled squatting’ since no facilities were provided on Trust land for this group of resettled people. Homelands were envisioned as a labour reservoir and a place for resettling people who were no longer needed in agriculture or by employers.444 The forced removals had an impact on land tenure, settlement, and population structures in the Bantustans. Betterment Schemes, too, were influenced by forced relocation. Population increases between 1977 and 1982 in various Homelands led to a much higher population density, as for instance, in Gazankulu, Lebowa, QwaQwa, and KwaZulu. Only in the Transkei, Ciskei, and Venda was population 4 42 Republic of South Africa, Idential Minute No. D 45/5, N2/10/3, Bantu Owned and Tribal Lands, Memorandum to all Officers in the Department of Bantu Administration, all Magistrates, all Detached, Additional and Assistant Magistrates and Fulltime Special Justices of the Peace, 10. 2. 1967, NASA , KAB , 1/WSA 80 N2/10/3. 4 43 Correspondence between Chief Bantu Affairs Commissioner Eastern Cape and A. J. Wilson, Bantu Affairs Commissioner, Whittlesea, Minute N2/10/3, 11. 9. 1968, 19. 9. 1968, NASA , KAB , 1/WSA 80 N2/10/3. 4 44 Unterhalter, Forced Removals, 21, 22.

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density reduced by the foundation of KaNgwane and KwaNdbele and a large number of forced removals from Venda to Gazankulu. Regarding all Homelands, the population density increased from 58 to 62 people per km2. In the white areas, it was 20 people per km2, in the whole of South Africa 29 people per km2.445 This development is also reflected in rehabilitation and settlement planning. The rehabilitation planning of the Tzitzikama Location in the Whittlesea district serves as an example here.446 Originally ruled by Fingo tribesmen, Xhosa by origin, it was declared a Betterment Area in 1963. The condition of the area was described as ‘very short, but still dense’. The population differed from other rural areas. It seems that the administration commissions did not have complete information as to the number of people living in the area of 3,316 morgen. It remains unclear whether 1,058 people or families inhabited the land. Only 139 families were farmers. Land rights were held by 98 families; 138 families lived in Kraalheads, and 150 were taxpayers. The planning of the settlement was clearly influenced by the resettlement of surplus people, with this resulting in overpopulation. The area was planned with two wards, the Cibini Ward with 2,395 morgen for 62 landowners, and the Mcambalaleni Ward with 1,280 morgen for 36 landowners. The state of the arable land was described as ‘shocking’. The Ad Hoc Commitee wanted to reduce the number of lots appreciably, but there was not enough compensation land available, so that finally landowners were forced to accept less compensation land (two morgen each, instead of full compensation). The committee had to calculate the settlement’s costs and income from farming and labour. Depending on the size of the arable land (170 morgen in the Cibini Ward and 122 morgen in the Mcambalaleni Ward) and the assessed number of cattle, there was an estimated annual income of 3,693.34 Rand for Cibini and 2,119.39 Rand for Mcambaleni Ward. The recommended settlement was an economic landholding with either 3 or 6 morgen. The Cibini Ward did not have sufficient land for economic landholdings with 6 morgen and 118 Rand annual income, so some inhabitants had to accept surplus land with 3 morgen with 119 Rand income. Finally the Ad Hoc Commitee calculated 22 economic units with 6 morgen of land each (a total of 132 morgen of arable land) at an assessed capacity of 18 cattle units, and 9 economic units of 3 morgen (a total of 27 morgen of arable land) with a capacity of 21 cattle units. The total requirement for the Cibini Ward was 31 economic units carrying 585 cattle units on 159 morgen of arable land. 4 45 See appendix 1, 1.5, tables 22, 23. 4 46 Bantu Affairs Commissioner Whittlesea, Reclamation Report: Tzitzikama Location, Whittlesea N2/11/3-21, Whittlesea, 2. 12. 1969, NASA , KAB , 1/WSA 80 N2/11/3-21. The following remarks and table 2.7 refer to this one decisive document.

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There were two problems: The calculation was 5 cattle units more than the assessed carrying capacity, and there was a surplus of 11 morgen of land because 170 morgen had been surveyed. The Mcambalaleni Ward was calculated with 18 economic units carrying 6 morgen of arable land and 18 cattle units. Required were 108 of morgen arable land and 324 cattle units, 14 cattle units more than assessed with 14 morgen of surplus land. The math here is baffling. On the one hand, there obviously was not enough land to compensate landowners, especially as these fields were for the most part barren. On the other hand, there was surplus land after the completion of the calculation. Finally the ward division was planned as follows: Table 2.7: Ward Division

Morgen(Mg) Residential Areas Woodlots Total Arable Area Grazing Area Totals Morgen per Cattle Unit Area Available for Assess Carrying Capacity Cattle Units Assessment Cattle Units Arable Land Required Composition Economic Units Income Number of Economic Units Allocation of Land

Cibini 45 Mg (+ 23 Mg Grazing) 30 Mg 273 Mg 2014 Mg + 33 Mg 2395 Mg 4 2320 Mg 580 585 (5 above) 159 Mg 22 á 6 Mg 9 á 3 Mg 118 R 119 R 31

Mcambalaleni Total 24 Mg (+49 Mg Grazing) 69 Mg 16 Mg 46 Mg 174 Mg 447 Mg 1017 Mg + 49 Mg 3113 Mg 1280 Mg 3675 Mg 4 1240 Mg 310 324 (14 above) 108 Mg 18 á 6 Mg

909 267 Mg

118 R 18

49

Not Applicable; Individual Quitrent Titles

This approach seems to be an attempt to resemble Economic Farm Units (EFU ), as originally proposed by the Tomlinson Commission, although they are substantially smaller. Tomlinson had calculated between 52.5 and 60 morgen of land for each EFU . In the present case, the Ad Hoc Commitee calculated the number and extent of the economic units based on the estimated income and the size of the surveyed land.

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Another shift in settlement planning was the rearrangement of residential areas, which were divided into landowner and non-­landowner sites. This is why both houses and huts were built. In comparison, the settlement planning for surplus people, who were half of the inhabitants, was poor. Townships were soon established, for example Shiloh Township, which provided a new dimension to spatial planning in Homelands. Non-­landowners were able to acquire plots in such townships. Finally, A. J. Wilson, the responsible Bantu Affairs Commissioner, the Regional Engineer, the Principal and the Senior Agricultural Officer had to face the fact that the proposed expenditure of 1,947 Rand for the settlement exceeded the budget.447 Pretoria provided substantial budgets for the Bantustans: In 1976, before Transkeian independence, Bophuthatswana received R37 million, KwaZulu R70 million, and Transkei over R110 million; the latter sum had doubled by the early 1980s. This number represented over 80 per cent of their total budgets and did represent a substantial boost in expenditure in areas long starved of central government funding. William Beinart has called it ‘a further irony of Apartheid’ that excluding Africans politically entailed far greater commitment than the development and welfare of Afrikaner people. The costs of the Homeland began to overshadow the government’s capacity to subsidize the wages of white workers, which was needed to secure the latter’s welfare.448 At the height of Apartheid, resettlement, environmental problems, poverty, and unrewarding labour all characterized Homelands. Apartheid policies started to change against the background of rising opposition. From the late 1970s, after three decades of governmental power, the Nationalists started to show signs of vulnerability. A growing political opposition, the Natal strikes of 1973, and the Soweto protests of 1976 were all major turning points for the country’s political climate. By the early 1980s, domestic opposition was beginning to link more effectively to banned political movements like the ANC , whose survival, although in exile, proved to be of great importance.449 The resistance of Black Spot communities to forced eviction moved into the line of vision of international players. In February 1984, the people of Mogopa were forcibly removed from their land, which was taken over for the grazing cattle of white farmers, and relocated to Bethanie and Paachdrai in the Bophuthatswana Bantustan. They were given no 4 47 Bantu Affairs Commissioner Whittlesea, Reclamation Report: Tzitzikama Location, Whittlesea N2/11/3-21, Whittlesea, 2. 12. 1969, NASA , Kab, 1/WSA 80 N2/11/3-21. 4 48 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 224. 4 49 Ibidem, 228.

Ethnic Categorisation and Population Distribution  |

compensation because they had refused to move. Some 300 homes and a cluster of community buildings were destroyed.450 The State Department of the United States protested these actions of the South African government in an address to the South African Ambassador in Washington and there was a global outcry against the relocations. In June 1984, the planned removal of the KwaNgema community led to demonstrations outside Downing Street in London. The key to moving beyond verbal protests and forming a concrete resistance lay in communities being able to affect international public opinion, this enabled by various organizations and the media. The case of Mogopa exposed the Apartheid government’s racism. In the case of KwaNgema, it was even possible to stop the removals. International attention and organized resistance enabled the formation of residents’ associations that fought the Bantustan governments. In many cases, especially in Mogopa, the populations were divided into groups willing to move and those who were not.451 Forced removal was rejected by Bantustan governments as well as by local chiefs, who did not want resettle forcibly removed people onto their land. Resistance to Betterment, the Bantu Authorities Act, and general Homeland policy had been building since the 1960s. The case study of McAllister about the Willowvale District in the Transkei shows that Betterment was resisted strongly by the traditional Red Xhosa, because it involved changes in settlement patterns, was an assault on the established political and territorial units, and undermined the traditional lifestyle. They feared the disappearance of generation-­old neighbourhood groups, sustenance being endangered, and dependence on migrant labour. In Shixini, Willovwale, Xhosa people tried to resist Betterment by defending their traditional way of life and isolating themselves from the greater socio-­economic system. In some areas, they managed remain autonomous and maintain relatively undisturbed patterns of communal settlement.452 According to a study by Chris de Wet, published in 1989, the Chatha community in Kreiskammahoek saw Betterment as an unnecessary intrusion by the white government. De Wet also points out that resistance to Betterment in Chata was not influenced by outside organizations like the ANC or Poqo.453 This is an important difference to later resistance in the 1970s and 1980s. The ANC explicitly condemned forced removals of Black Spot communities and supported the opposition. In January 1980, an armed unit of Umkhonto de Sizwe attacked a 450 Richard Knight, “Black Dispossession in South Africa: The Myth of Bantustan Independence”. The Africa Fund, Southern African Perspectives 2 (1984), http://richardknight.homestead. com/bophuthatswana.html, accessed 24. 10. 2016. 451 Unterhalter, Forced Removals, 114, 115. 452 McAllister, Resistance to ‘Betterment’, 346, 368. 453 De Wet, Betterment Planning in a Rural Village, 343.

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police station in the Northern Transvaal in support of the Soekmekaar’s struggle against forced removal.454 The development of black African unity, with different groups standing as together one, was possibly one of the most fascinating developments of the struggle to overcome Apartheid. In 1980, more than 50 per cent of the African population had been moved to or settled in new Homelands. Not quite reaching Apartheid’s goal of complete segregation, this was a high percentage, nonetheless.455 In the long term, opposing Homelands bolstered a national African identity, as has been shown by Beinart. Although the Homelands were dumping grounds for surplus people and reservoirs for cheap migrant labour, to enforce specific Homelands policies required some local cooperation. There were a few who had benefitted from the system. Homeland governments changed their policies and behaviour because large amounts of funding and subsidies were poured into increasingly unregulated governments, Development Corporations, and bureaucracies. Neo-­patrimonial tendencies were reinforced. Homeland governors simultaneously expanded their own security forces, trained by white South Africans. The Bantustan system created networks of economic and political patronage, with little outside control. In the 1980s, Homeland politicians experienced increasing pressure, as the youth rebellion of the 1970s became a general rebellion in the 1980s. The uprooting of so many people undoubtedly compounded poverty, which also contributed to the volatility of black politics. Similarly, the system of reward through ethnic identification, one of the pillars of Homeland policy, failed.456

2.5 Conclusion The development of South Africa from the early post-­colonial Union to a sovereign state was a long one. The big push for development was forced in the 1950s and ended in the 1970s, with a developing capitalism followed by a recession. The violent acts of eviction and forced resettlement during Apartheid grew out of South Africa’s history as a former settler colony and its goal to transform itself into a technocratic, capitalist state. Practices of appropriating African land, dispossessions and evictions of the African population were allowed by new legislation and systematically enforced (to an extent) with the help of newly developed bureaucratic systems. In 1957 Leo Marquard coined the expression ‘internal 4 54 Unterhalter, Forced Removals, 120. 455 See appendix 1, 1.3, table 4, 1.5, table 23. 456 Beinart, Twentieth Century South Africa, 222, 226, 227.

Conclusion  |

colonialism’ to describe the emerging South African society. Instead of practicing a policy of sensible arrangements and peaceful dealings, the South African government tried to gain control of the African population by applying principles more applicable to frontier societies. These principles were characterized by the ruthless breaking up of tribal life, the exploitation of underpaid labour, and battling a distinct a lack of corporate institutions.457 A closer analysis of 20th-­century South Africa shows that this was indeed the case. Even the kind of modernization that Marquard supported was strongly based on the idea of appropriating European countries as models. The idea of modernisation – the assumption that all societies evolve from barbarism to higher levels of development – has been heavily criticized for conflating modernization with westernization. This is visible in these mass resettlement projects and the efforts to segregate the population. According to Chris de Wet and Roddy Fox, different forces occasioned widespread human movement in Southern Africa, including economic instances, wars, environmental pressures, and political policies. This so-­called DevelopmentInduced Displacement and Resettlement (DIDR ), planned at each stage by the authorities and often resulting in refugee mobilisation, is not unique to South Africa. Displacement did not take place in a DIDR context very often, because people were often ordered to leave and had to find a new home by themselves, a process called Development-­Induced Displacement (DID ).458 In the case of South Africa, however, DIDR was not based on a functional idea, but rested on a racial ideology. The spatial division as well as the principles of ethnic categorization, rooted in the principles of a frontier society, had to fail under the given environment and realities. Among other things, the consequence of this failure was a random system of forced resettlement and ejection in a DID context. The first chapter addressed the South African government’s need to create a clear narrative and have a dominant hegemony to build and maintain an artificially created society. Some aspects of this hegemony were visible in propaganda, such as the above-­mentioned magazine Bantu, which provided skilful distortion of facts. The manufactured data about population shifts as well as erratic territorial planning created the illusion of a predominantly white society really existing. I suggest that three levels upheld this racially ordered society: (1) political and economic levels, which were able to keep the majority of the population in check 457 Leo Marquard, “South Africa’s Colonial Policy”. ( Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1957), 1, 8, 9. 458 Chris de Wet, Roddy Fox, “Introduction: Transforming Settlement in Southern Africa”. Chris, de Wet, Roddy Fox (eds.), “Transforming Settlement in Southern Africa”. (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press: 2003), 1 – 29:1, 2.

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through administrative and legislative means; (2) a strong repressive apparatus maintaining the economic superiority of white South Africans; (3) ideological discussions, based on economic allocations, ensuring economic advantages for Europeans. To maintain political hegemony over such a long period needs discursive and scientific motives. A simple propaganda machine is not strong enough to save social superiority and plausibility. Spatial planning and ethnic categorization, as seen in this chapter, permitted the strengthening of white power. Spatial planning and engineering based on the divide et impera principle ensured that enough land was set aside for the white population. While infeasible, land distribution schemes were meant to further provide for the white population, with non-­viable states being placed in scattered areas with not yet established populations, these being created through relocation based on misguided ethnic categories. The newly formed independent states needed a defined population, served by the ethic categorization invented in part by the Apartheid regime. The fragmentation of the African population created ethnic conflicts that benefitted the white South African government. Lastly, pseudo-­scientific discussions about African groups concealed the racism of the Apartheid regime and created a new population distribution with a partial white majority.

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3. From Imperial Ecology to Uncertain Sustainability: Ecological Engineering and the Impact on the Human-­Environmental Complex in the Bantustans

3.0 Introduction The previous chapter dealt with two important factors in patterns of society engineering – spatial planning and ethnic categorisation. In the case of South African Apartheid, these were directly connected. This chapter will now discuss another complex, namely, environmentalism and ecological engineering. The fear of soil erosion was an influential part of the investigations of the Tomlinson Commission. During Grand Apartheid, the efforts to stop the process of land degradation declined owing to increasing over-­population and efforts to create a white South Africa. However, environmentalism still played an important role in Apartheid propaganda. African agriculture was blamed for the ecologic and economic decline of the Bantustans. Ultimately this led to the political failure of the Apartheid regime. Land use and land cover changed significantly in South Africa during the 20th century in response to a wide range of political, social, and environmental influences. As already mentioned, African environmental history is a relatively new discipline. This is also, particularly, the case for the combination of environmental history and social history and its complex patterns of societies with different dependencies and interactions. Thus much of this chapter will be based on individual case studies on human-­environment interaction conducted in the post-­Apartheid era, especially the research on botany, soil sciences, and environmental history carried out within the framework of the RCR project between 2010 and 213. In many cases, changes of land cover have to do with the theoretical framework of Socio-­Ecological Systems. In this chapter, I will deal with the question of whether the Bantustans can be examined as Socio-­Ecological Systems. There is no reason to doubt that there were strong human-­environmental interactions, especially in the rural Bantustans, but handling them as SES and investigating their resilience means accepting the concept of separate development in a certain way. It is clear that we cannot ignore the existing settlements, villages, and townships that were the result of the concept of separate development. While researchers naturally deal with them as existing SES , I would like to find a definition of the Bantustans as SES combined the factor of coercion, and to explore their resilience, collapse

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and re-­organisation in relation to this force and violence. This definition might be a continuation of the term uncertainty, which is often used in SES theory to describe African SES . In fact, coercion coupled with SES is a point that scholars often deal with in resilience research. To analyse the ecological engineering undertaken during the Apartheid era, part of the chapter will be dedicated to describing the different types of landscapes and land-­use patterns in South Africa. After discussing the role of the Bantustans in the SES theory, I will examine the ecological engineering that took place in South Africa during the Apartheid era. It is important to bear in mind that conservation measures in black and white areas were different. In this section of this volume, it will become clear why communal land use often practiced in African agriculture is not a decisive reason for soil degradation. A description of conservation and agricultural measures with a few case studies at a micro level will help prove this. The Betterment Schemes will play an important role in the discussion, especially the various measures taken against soil erosion. The focus of Betterment lay on the planning of villages in the Bantustans. Despite being potentially helpful, soil erosion measures addressed the symptoms rather than the causes of land degradation. Ecological engineering took place, although it was not the main subject of the social engineering being undertaken in the Homelands. Environmentalism was used to oppress African resistance and control the African population. Again, the main objective was to engineer white supremacy. Nevertheless, Betterment was an element of spatial planning as well as environmental power. The final section of this chapter will deal with the impact of Apartheid on the country’s vegetation. To present the changes in land, I will use data from other RCR project groups as well as the repeat photography that was done by the Plant Conservation Unit in Cape Town. To evaluate these results, it is also important to consider the different conditions on private white land and black areas.

3.1 South African Bantustans: Coerced Socio-­Ecological Systems? 3.1.1 Main Terms of SES Theory

The SES theory was developed within the Resilience Project, a five-­year project with an international group of ecologists, economists, social scientists, and mathematicians. The project was initiated to search for an integrative theory and integrative examples to understand the complexity of economic, ecological and social systems. Its goal was to develop and test the elements of an integrative theory that

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would have the necessary degree of simplicity for understanding but also have the complexity required for developing policies aimed at sustainable development.459 The first chapter briefly discussed the terms of resilience, panarchy and uncertainty. At this point, it is appropriate to deal with the concepts of a panarchy in detail. The terms of resilience and uncertainty will be discussed below. A ‘panarchy’ has been described by Holling as a concept that explains the evolving nature of complex adaptive systems. Panarchy is a hierarchical structure in which four systems are interlinked in never-­ending adaptive cycles of growth, accumulation, restructuring, and renewal: (1) systems of nature, like forests, grasslands, lakes, rivers, and sea; (2) systems of humans (for example, structures of governance, settlements and cultures); (3) as well as combined human-nature systems and social-­ecological systems (for instance, co-­evolved systems of management). These transformational cycles take place in nested sets at scales defined by the researcher, ranging from a leaf to the biosphere over periods from days to geologic epochs, as well as from a family to a socio-­political region over periods from years to centuries. Holling emphasises that if we can understand these cycles and their scales, it seems possible to evaluate their contribution to sustainability as well as the points at which a system is capable of accepting positive change and the points where it is vulnerable. It subsequently becomes possible to use these leverage points to foster resilience and sustainability within a system. The idea of panarchy combines earlier concepts of space/time hierarchies and adaptive cycles. Holling bases his theory of adaptive cycles on the research of H. A. Simon, who in 1974 was one of the first to describe the adaptive significance of hierarchical structures. Simon called these structures ‘hierarchies’, but not in the sense of a sequence of authoritative control, but rather, as semi-­autonomous levels that are formed from the interactions among a set of variables which share similar speeds as well as geometric/ spatial attributes. Each level communicates a small set at a higher (slower and coarser) level. As long as the transfer from one level to the other is maintained, the interactions within the levels themselves can be transformed – or the variables can be changed – without the whole system losing its integrity. This structure thus allows wide latitude for experimentation within levels, whereby the speed of evolution can be increased greatly. Simon has argued that each level of a dynamic 459 The Resilience Project is often mentioned in literature. See for example: C. S. Holling, “Theories for Sustainable Futures”, Conservation Ecology 4 (2) (2000), art. 7, http://www. consecol.org/vol4/iss2/art7/, accessed 27. 10. 2016. See also John M. Gowdy, “Economics Interactions With Other Disciplines. Environmental Economics, Vol. 2.” (Oxford: Eolss Publishers Co Ltd, 2009), 36. According to these authors, the results of this project are summarized in the final report to the MacArthur Foundation, found at http://www.resalliance.org/​ reports. This URL , however, is not available anymore.

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hierarchy serves two functions: to conserve and stabilise conditions for faster and smaller levels, and to generate and test innovations through experiments occurring within each level. In 1986 Holling called this dynamic function ‘an adaptive cycle’. The adaptive cycle is a heuristic model, a fundamental unit that contributes to the understanding of the dynamics of complex systems – from the size of cells to the size of ecosystems, societies and cultures. There are three properties that shape the adaptive cycle and the future state of a system property, namely wealth, controllability and adaptive capacity. These are general ones, whether at the scale of the cell or the biosphere, the individual or a culture. In case examples of regional development and ecosystem management, they are the properties that shape the responses of ecosystems, agencies, and people to crisis. Potential or wealth sets the limits for possibilities, that is, it determines the number of alternative options for the future. Connectedness or controllability determines the degree to which a system can control its own destiny, as distinct from being caught by the whims of external variability. Resilience determines how vulnerable a system is to unexpected disturbances and surprises that can exceed or break that control. As already mentioned in the first chapter, this is achieved by adaptive capacity. Holling divides an adaptive cycle into four phases, which he also calls key features.460 All of them are measurable in specific situations. First, Holling treats potential as equivalent to wealth as expressed in ecosystem structures, productivity, human relationships, mutations and inventions. Potential increases incrementally in conjunction with efficiency, but also in conjunction with rigidity. This phase of growth Holling defines as r, during which resilience is high. Second, the system run might be interrupted. As potential increases, slow changes gradually expose an increasing vulnerability, which means reduced resilience to threats such as fire, insect outbreak, competitors or opposition groups. The system becomes an accident waiting to happen. This stage is described as the conservation phase K. These two phases r to K are called the “fore loop” [sic!]. They correspond to the ecological succession in ecosystems and constitute a development mode in organisations and societies. Third, innovation occurs when uncertainty is great, potential is high and controls are weak, whereby novel recombinations can form. This is the phase of re-­organisation Ω. Low connectedness allows unexpected combinations of previously isolated or constrained innovations that can nucleate new opportunity. Fourth, these innovations are subsequently tested. Some fail, but others survive and adapt in a succeeding phase of growth. This re-­organisation phase is called α. It is important to keep in mind that not all adaptive cycles are the same. A panarchy is a representation of a hierarchy as a nested set of adaptive 4 60 Holling, Understanding Complexity, 391.

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cycles. The functioning of these cycles and the communication between them determines the sustainability of a system. Two features distinguish the panarchical representation. The first is the importance of the adaptive cycle, in particular the innovative phase as the engine of variety and the generator of new experiments within each level. The various levels of the panarchy can be seen as a nested set of adaptive cycles. The second feature involves the connections between levels. There are potentially multiple connections between phases at different levels. However, two of these connections are particularly significant for defining the meaning of sustainability: these are labelled as ‘revolt’ and ‘remember’, where three levels of a panarchy are represented. The revolt and remember connections become important at points of change in adaptive cycles. The panarchy is a representation of the ways in which a healthy SES can invent and experiment, benefiting from inventions that create opportunity while it is kept safe from factors that destabilize the system. Following this argumentation, sustainability is the capacity to create, test, and maintain adaptive capability. Development is the process of creating, testing, and maintaining opportunity. The phrase that combines the two – ‘sustainable development’ – thus refers to the goal of fostering adaptive capabilities while simultaneously creating opportunities.461 3.1.2 The Homelands in SES Theory and Imperial Ecology

Before discussing the term uncertainty, I will engage in a discussion about the state of the Homelands within this SES theory. It might be helpful in this context to look at older South African theories explaining human-­environmental interaction. Smuts’ holistic view of nature and the ecological theories of Bews and Phillips were the main theoretical foci of South African imperial ecology. A closer look at SES theory on the one hand and colonial ecologist theories on the other can help incorporate the African Homelands and other complex systems based on force and violence into a strong mathematically influenced system theory. Research on human-environmental relations dates back to a late phase of the British Empire. Ecology developed as its own scientific discipline. Elements of botany evolved into the new discipline of human ecology in the early 20th century. According to Peder Anker, a rather striking level of growth within the British colonial territories during the late 19th and the first half of the 20th century can be put down to the activities of competing groups of energetic, influential, and often single-­minded academics and political figures. The so-­called north-­south 4 61 Holling, Understanding Complexity, 391, 392, 393. Walker et al., Understanding Resilience, 2.

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dimension, the debate between two patronage networks on how to include humans into ecological research and policies, and, ultimately, on how to scientifically run a huge and highly varied empire was an important aspect of the new scientific discipline. Seeking out new tools to understand the links between nature and society was based on a concerted search for setting up new management policies for the Empire’s natural resources and controlling its inhabitants in particular ways. According to Anker, academic research and discussion resulted in the development of a ‘tripartite ecology of nature, knowledge and society’. By the end of the 1930s, the competing patronage networks began to put forth strikingly different ecological theories, with Arthur George Tansey as the main representative of the northern network and Jan Smuts on the southern side. While Smuts argued for a policy of holism and gradualism, as described above, Tinsley’s theories were ‘mechanistic’, with great attention given to how to control imperial material and human resources. While individuals and the patronage networks disagreed about ecological theories and the position of human beings in nature, they seemed to agree on one important point: the need to carry out research and develop generalizations that would be useful for managing the Empire. While there was disagreement as to how it should be managed well, there was a consensus that imperial rule needed to be scientifically organised.462 Where to place the Native Reserves and later Bantustans in this context is clear. Smuts’ so-­called human gradualism of human personalities and the concept of an ecological biotic community was a scientific framework that could easily be transformed into a policy of gradualism that respected local ways of life in different biotic communities. Already in the 1930s, Smuts argued for a spatial division of races, especially in urban areas. Ecophilosphy gave a template for the ideological elaboration of the following phase of tribalisation, with an enigmatic range of ethnic categories. A complete different approach is to use the SES theory as a theoretical framework for dealing with the development of the South African Homelands. The concept of SES has no racial or imperial background. The works of Brien Walker, C. S. Holling and Lance Gunderson suggest that Socio-­Ecological Systems are neither humans embedded in ecological systems, nor ecosystems integrated into human systems. They define the complex as ‘a different thing all together’, with identifiable components that cannot easily be parsed for analytic or practical purposes.463 Holling rejects any top-­down graduation and argues for a rationalization of the interplay between the predictable and unpredictable factors of a Socio-­Ecological 4 62 Anker, Imperial Ecology, 1, 2, 4, 6, 237, 240, 242. Sanjoy Battacharya, “Review”. History and Philosophy of the Life Sciences 25 (4) (2003), 548 – 550: 548, 549. 4 63 Walker et al., Understanding Resilience, 1.

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System. In order to achieve this goal, he chooses the term ‘panarchy’ to avoid any rigid word hierarchy.464 This is an important difference from Smuts’ holistic view of nature. There is no graduation of the factors defining living space, nor is there a mechanistic interpretation of nature as proposed by the ‘northern group’ around Tansley. The definition of SES as a non-­linear system is a dynamic one. However, after excluding any racial or power-­gaining motivations in SES theories, there are certain analogical patterns between human ecology as developed during the late British Empire and the methods of interpreting SES . Defining a system based on the values of the variables that constitute it might depend on the knowledge of a conjunction of social, economic, and ecological factors in the societies being discussed at the beginning of the 20th century. It is certainly a useful definition. In view of the fact that southern Africa’s environmental history was a totally neglected field until the early 21st century, for discussing social and economic questions, the SES theory can open new possibilities of interdisciplinary research. Nevertheless, there is one problematic term in SES theory as well as in the early discussions on the place of humans in ecology, namely, management. The work of SES researchers has formulated five preliminary heuristic concepts: adaptive cycle, panarchy, resilience, adaptability, and transformability. The first three have already been discussed. Adaptability is the capacity of actors in a system to manage resilience, while transformability is the capacity to create a fundamentally new system when the existing one is untenable.465 Discussions about SES are oriented towards the aim of reaching resilience, as well as the management of systems and their natural resources. Of course, this is a complete different aim than managing a society to maintain white supremacy and imperial rule. Nevertheless, the parallels in this strategic order are clearly visible. And they are problematic, to say the least. Goals may change over time. Goal-­oriented research is thus important and necessary under concrete conditions, with goals that are well defined. However, interpreting complex systems cannot hinge on the management of these systems and their stability. A theoretical framework based upon management measures with the aim of stability alone does not take into consideration factors such as racism, slavery, dictatorship, and other forms of inequality. A society based on violent dictatorship can have high resilience and adaptability, but is not acceptable for ethic reasons. This oversight is a weakness in the interpretations of human-­ ecological systems. Walker, Gunderson, Kinzig, Folke, Carpenter and Schutz have attempted to address the ecological and social domains of SES in a common conceptual, theoretical, and modelling framework. Nonetheless, it remains un 4 64 Holling, Understanding Complexity, 396. 4 65 Walker et al., Understanding Resilience, 3.

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clear whether a common framework of system dynamics can be used to explain both social and ecological systems. There are many examples of alternate regimes and thresholds in ecological systems; this is less so for social systems. Coupled Socio-­Ecological Systems contain the element of human intentions and have very different dynamics in comparison to ecological components. It is also unclear whether social systems have attractors that are equivalent to those of ecological systems. Despite these unresolved issues, the aforementioned authors have chosen the management of coupled SES as a central theme. However, they add an interesting point, namely the mental model. Mental models provide the framework for perceiving and judging the direction and desirability of system change, driving change and enhancing adaptability. It remains open to question how changing mental models has influenced the evolution of formal models and how this process relates to the stages of an adaptive cycle in a panarchy.466 This would be an important question in the analysis of societies in general, but here, especially, of the South African Homelands. Analysing social, economic, and ecological processes in the Bantustans with the aim of enhancing resilience without regarding the circumstances that led to their existence would provide incomplete or even false results. I have emphasised the hypothesis that not only land partition but also conservation measures and so-­called agricultural support in black areas were based upon racist attitudes rather than the analysis of ecological facts. Dominant discourses and social hegemony were stronger factors in Apartheid policy than the empirical facts of population distribution, ecological decline, or economic problems. A complete analysis of a human-environmental complex is not possible without examining and evaluating the ideological background. This analytical step is also necessary to get away from the ideological patterns of imperial research. 3.1.3 Uncertain Sustainability and Coercion as Working Hypothesis for African SES?

There is a wide range of discussions about the features of SES . The problems of uncertainty and coercion are quite respected topics in the SES discourse of recent years. A research group of the Resilience Alliance around Reinette Biggs and Clint Rhode published a paper on strategies to manage SES in the face of uncertainty, offering diverse examples from South Africa. Their research is also management oriented. They have defined their research as a challenge in the 21st century that is aimed at reducing poverty and inequality in the face of a rapidly-­growing world 4 66 Walker et al., Understanding Resilience, 7, 10.

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population without threatening the capacity of the Earth to meet the needs of current and future generations. Given the interconnectedness of global social, economic, and ecological systems, it is increasingly acknowledged that an integrated approach that accounts for the multiple inter-­linkages and dependencies between social and ecological systems is required. At the same time, the rapid pace at which these interconnected systems are changing – often in entirely novel ways – requires governance and management strategies that are robust to the uncertainty in system dynamics. Uncertainty is defined as an integral feature of complex adaptive systems; in SES this arises from several sources. First, an SES is self-­organising and continuously develops and changes in response to external strain and internal system changes. Understanding the dynamics and interactions within an SES is at least in part a moving target, and thus, managing SES requires continual learning and adaptation of various management strategies. Second, uncertainty arises from interactions between social, economic, and ecological components of the system that give rise to emergent SES properties, especially non-­linear behaviour which cannot be predicted through knowledge of the individual system parts. A third source of uncertainty stems from values, which play a critical role in deciding desired social and ecological outcomes, resolving trade-­offs and influencing tolerance for risk and uncertainty. Differences in values among different groups and changes in values over time create substantial uncertainties about which management strategies best meet societal goals.467 Various new approaches to deal with change and uncertainty in SES are currently emerging, motivated by the pressing sustainability challenges facing society and informed by a growing body of theoretical and empirical work on SES . The so-­called Akili Young Scientist Group focused on identifying complexity-­based strategies for managing SES in the face of uncertainty, research that has been done based on a diverse set of backgrounds – genetics, ecology, political science, public administration in South Africa. The authors identified four strategies for managing SES , especially in southern Africa. These strategies involved, first, employing adaptive management; second, engaging and integrating different perspectives; third, facilitating self-­organisation; and fourth, setting safe boundaries to avoid system thresholds. It is interesting that the strategy of engaging and integrating different perspectives has dealt with the so-­called Mount Fleur scenario in South Africa in the 1980s, while the others deal with ecological uncertainty. In the late 1980s, South Africa faced a situation of radical uncertainty as it became clear that the Apartheid regime would end. The Mont Fleur scenario exercise was undertaken

4 67 Biggs et al., Socio-­Ecological Systems in the Face of Uncertainty, 52.

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in 1991 – 92 to discuss and explore different ways in which the transition to democracy might take place and what the consequences of different pathways might be. The exercise brought together 22 influential South Africans from both black and white communities. It has been hailed as the key initiative that helped to change mind-­sets and pave the way for the peaceful political transition in 1994. The scenario team met in a series of workshops at the Mont Fleur Conference Centre outside Cape Town to share ideas and discuss the country’s future. By the end of the scenario exercise, the participants had come to an agreement that the only viable way forward was a scenario that they called the ‘flight of the flamingos.’ This result should be a positive outcome where a negotiated settlement and sound governmental policies put the country on a path towards inclusive growth and democracy.468 This example is a particularly powerful illustration of how a well-­facilitated process can help build the common understanding and trust necessary for complex societal decisions to be taken in the face of substantial uncertainty about the future. It becomes clear that resilience researchers face the problem of political influence on a complex system. However, resilience theory only discusses the system change of Apartheid. Apartheid was unacceptable even before struggles grew in the late 1980s. It was a racist, non-­democratic and violent state based on a hierarchy of impossible assumptions. The aim of managing poverty and inequality and the term uncertainty are not adequate for interpreting Apartheid’s Homeland policy. Another term has emerged in resilience discussion in recent years, namely coercion. Researchers from the Stockholm Resilience Centre exploring the forced resilience of intensive agriculture, forestry, fisheries and aquaculture systems, have concluded that the use of the resilience framework must be expanded to improve the understanding of how people and ecosystems interact in agriculture, forestry and other production systems. There is growing scholarly consensus that the scale of human impact requires the definition of a new geological era referred to as the ‘Anthropocene’. The Anthropocene is characterised by land cover transformation, biodiversity loss, pollution and climate change, all with global implications. The above research group has investigated the application of resilience concepts to the challenges associated with sustainability in key production systems like forestry, agriculture, fisheries, and aquaculture. They look specifically at the substitution of human and human-­made capital for natural capital and processes. So-­called anthropogenic efforts – rather than ecological processes – mimic the response of resilient natural 4 68 Ibidem, 53, 56, 57.

South African Bantustans: Coerced Socio-­Ecological Systems?  |

systems to a specified disturbance in their capacity to return to pre-­disturbance system states. To separate these different forms of resilience, the Stockholm group defines resilience that emerges at the system level due to anthropogenic input or action as ‘coerced resilience’. Coerced resilience in this context is a result of inputs such as labour, energy, and technology, rather than being supplied by the ecological system itself. Here, the authors provide propositions to expand the resilience framework. The current theory primarily takes an ecological system-­centred view, focusing on the ecological response and feedback of the diverse system components. This omission is a problem in the case of intensive production systems where the resilience of multiple systems is often connected and interdependent due to anthropogenic inputs. First, ecological resilience is replaced by coerced resilience and in some systems, a permanent – yet masked – loss of alternative systems may have occurred. Second, maintaining production-­oriented systems in states of coerced resilience increases cross-­boundary interactions between production systems with major implications for sustainability. Third, there are global limits and thus trade-­offs in our capacity to coerce resilience in production systems, as well as the extent to which such systems can be relied upon to meet global demand. In their article, the groups of authors reveal that resilience may not always be a good thing, particularly when it exhibits itself as the resilience of unsustainable intensive production systems that are managed to exclude changes and surprises. This increases the risk of large-­scale collapses. In the context of production systems, coercion of resilience enables the maintenance of high levels of production. Enhancing resilience in production systems requires a mixture of interventions dependent on the current position of a particular system.469 The authors also argue against the management-­oriented method of resilience theory and provide examples of ecological coercion. If applied to political processes, the whole Apartheid regime can be interpreted as a coercive resilient system. Apartheid survived for over 40 years. The project of separate development was dynamic and shows a surprising adaptability and capability over the years. Nevertheless, the theoretical framework of SES and resilience theory cannot reflect the complete Apartheid system. It is difficult to present the factors of a strong political narrative and hegemony as a non-­linear system. It is important to use different methods to interpret processes in societies. SES theory is interesting for interpreting the third component of social engineering dealt with in this chapter, namely ecological engineering. Betterment and conservation measures in South Africa can be seen as ecological engineering. The next section will show how in 4 69 L. Rist et al., “Applying resilience thinking to production ecosystems”. Ecosphere 5 (73) (2014), http://dx.doi.org/10.1890/ES 13-00330.1, accessed 24. 10. 2016.

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some regions, Betterment measures – especially the limiting of livestock numbers – led to an increase of ecologic stability and resilience. However, this does not make Betterment more acceptable and it certainly did not prevent poverty. I will also provide some case studies to demonstrate why only concentrating on resilience results can lead to incorrect conclusions regarding land tenure and land-­use patterns.

3.2 Measures of Ecological Engineering in South Africa 3.2.1 Environmentalism in South Africa during Grand Apartheid

I have dealt with soil conservation programmes in black and white areas during the segregation era in the first chapter. Prior to 1970, the South African state had not established a satisfactory soil conservation programme in either black or white areas. In order to develop patterns of social engineering, conservation measures were forced in the 1960s after the publication of the Tomlinson report, reaching a high point in the 1960s and 1970s. According to William Beinart, conservationist ideas did not determine the patterns of state intervention. Technical thinking was central to agricultural planning. Conservationist concerns did not arise out of the relationship between the state and farming, but rather from the perceived difficulties facing settler agriculture. Conservationism meshed or conflicted with diverse questions of political control.470 Instead, I suggest embedding conservationism within the pattern of social engineering. Conservationism was not only an important element in agricultural policy, but also a means to maintain white supremacy in South Africa. Betterment and soil erosion measures were the most important parts of ecological engineering during the Apartheid era. The ideological basis for intervention had been established in the 1920s. I have described the process of growing concern about soil erosion and the crucial role of technical experts in the first chapter. Environmentalism and ecological engineering in 20th century South Africa were deeply connected to racist attitudes and racial segregation. Since they were adapted to unequal land distribution and social distortion of the population, conservationist measures had to be inadequate. It is interesting how segregation and Apartheid planners embedded conservationist thinking into their system. Indeed, it shows the capability of the regime. African settlement and land use were seen as responsible for the environmental problems being faced. These were the factors that had to be changed. According to Beinart, conservationist ideas 470 Beinart, Soil Erosion, 54.

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became important in the formulation and justification of planning. Interventions founded on basic technical terms became bound up with far-­reaching attempts to re-­structure rural African society. Betterment and rehabilitation resulted in the extensive resettlement and re-­organisation of agricultural land.471 The report of the Tomlinson Commission was a masterpiece for giving segregationist ideology the impression of scientific argumentation and deliberateness. It was an even greater political masterpiece of Verwoerd and the Apartheid government to reject the commission’s purposes of building up a viable African agricultural class in favour of an even more unequal land distribution, however without touching the political hegemony. In this context, one of the most coercive points of the Homeland SES becomes clear. Conservationist thinking not only became part of policies for comprehensive planning, but also of other strands of thought about restructuring rural communities. Nevertheless, isolated conservationist interventions like stock reductions were insufficient, violent and even reduced the economic base of rural families. Another fact was that after the 1950s, the realities of planning limited the contents and ambitions of social and ecological engineering schemes. The costs for fully surveying areas and increasing aerial photography were prohibitive. Consequently, road, afforestation and social projects – if existent – were abridged. I have shown in chapter two that cattle culling, grazing control, and resettlement took precedence. According to Beinart, it is important to keep in mind the notion that conservationist ideas rooted in colonial times were associated with agrarian capital and arose from the relationship between the state and settler farmers. Conservationist thinking emphasised the role of the expert. Even after 1960 and the implementation of ‘independent’ Bantu Homelands, these late colonial ideas remained an important part of the state’s development policies. Methods of dealing with soil erosion persisted during Grand Apartheid, although stock culling was dropped in some areas after they had gained formal independence.472 Nevertheless, soil conservation not only concerned African farmers. According to Delius and Schirmer, the general policy aim of rewarding farmers based upon their skin colour created numerous problems, especially in the period between 1947 and 1959. Racism could not completely overcome economic classes. The differences within the white farming sector could not be accommodated. An indication of white farmers’ commitment to soil conservation practices was found in their willingness to commit themselves to conservation plans drawn up with the assistance of officials.473 It should be mentioned that post-­colonial ideas of soil conservation 471 Ibidem, 71. 472 Ibidem, 83. 473 Delius, Schirmer, Soil Conservation, 737.

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in white areas did not differ much from those in African regions. Conservation measures were highly oriented towards efficient agricultural production and the importance of technical experts was stressed. The significant difference was that schemes were implemented with less coercion and large grants and subsidies were paid by the state to white farmers. By 1961, the government had supplied farmers with almost R9 million in subsidies and rebates and R6.5 million in loans. Delius and Schirmer have pointed out that very few works could be used exclusively for soil conservation.474 It is also important to remember that Betterment measures in African areas involved unpaid work undertaken by the inhabitants. Complaints about soil erosion came from poor farmers who regarded soil conservation to be a new form of patronage to which only rich and well-­connected farmers could gain access. As the soil conservation policy progressed, the relationship between poor white farmers and the state became strained. During the 1960s, there was a shift in the agricultural policy of large white farms. This shift also meant moving away from political preoccupations towards a greater concern with agricultural development. Participation in soil erosion measures was on a voluntary basis for white farmers. The declaration of a farm as a part of a soil conservation district was based on the demand of the landowner. Farmers had to ensure that provisions were made for combating soil erosion, rainfall and other water resources were used effectively, and that agricultural resources were being protected.475 One important reason for this shift was the realisation that farmers benefitted financially from soil conservation measures even if they did nothing to conserve the soil. Throughout the 1960s, soil conservation officials sought to centralise the inspection and enforcement of soil conservation practices. Under the Amended Soil Conservation Act from 1969, the state had greater possibilities to intervene. Small white farm owners were neglected or allowed to move into the cities.476 A closer look at soil erosion measures in black and white areas will show how the SES changed during the 1960s and 1970s. 3.2.2 Ecological Engineering in White Areas

It is useful to consider the expression ecological engineering before discussing the concrete measures undertaken in South Africa. Research on managing environ4 74 Ibidem. 475 P. M. K. Le Roux, Minister of Agricultural Technical Services, Applications for the Establishment of Soil Conservation Districts, 26. 1. 1962, 23. 2. 1963, NASA , KAB , Department of Agriculture Credit and Land Tenure (1910 – ) (ACLT ) 654 177792 (Vol. 2). 476 Delius, Schirmer, Soil Conservation, 740, 741.

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mental space aiming to improve human welfare already existed in the 1960s and was directly co-­opted by South African geographical research. The approach of a social geography was constantly developed. Later discussions are directly related to SES theory. I highlight the expressions ecological engineering, human geography and new ecology to show how this theoretical framework directly influenced conservation measures in Apartheid South Africa, and how later discussions are important in discussions on ecological and social engineering in a racial society. Ecological engineering is often defined as the emerging field of using ecological processes, within either natural systems or constructed imitations of natural systems, to achieve engineering goals. It also signifies designing sustainable ecosystems that integrate human society. The relatively young scientific discipline of ecological engineering combines basic and applied science from engineering, ecology, economics and natural sciences and is used for the restoration and construction of aquatic and terrestrial ecosystems. The term ecological engineering was first coined by Howard T. Odum in 1962. He wrote that ecological engineering is ‘[…] those cases where the energy supplied by man is small relative to the natural sources but sufficient to produce large effects in the resulting patterns and processes.’477 Geographical research in South Africa during the 1970s also took place in the interdisciplinary sense of social geography, with the aim of designing human-environmental space. R. J. Davies from the University of Natal argued for a socially conscious geography in 1974. Geography as a discipline should not only involve research to understand the nature of an environmental crisis, but also to seek for solutions. Recognising the human component of geography would be the answer to the development of ‘new frontiers of research’ on problems of social organisation, social interaction, social change and social policy. Geography in relation to human welfare would be a basic kind of research on a wide range of environmental problems, including those in South Africa. This new movement of socially conscious geography was to play an important role for the South African Geographical Society.478 The development of human geography was an international process. The 20th century witnessed an extreme broadening in the field of geographical research, while the concepts of the colonial period retreated into the background. Acknowledging the complexity of geographic phenomena became popular among scholars in the second half of the 20th century. The rise of culturally-­ inspired methods of analysis, the assimilation of actor-­network theories, and the 477 Howard Odum, “Man and Ecosystem”. Proceedings, Lockwood, “Conference on the Suburban Forest and Ecology”. Bulletin Connecticut Agricultural Station, Lockwood, CT, 1962. 478 R. J. Davies, “Geography and Society”. South African Geographical Journal 56 (1) (1974), 1 – 14: 1, 2, 7, 14.

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developments of notions such as social nature were welcomed by many geographers.479 The emerging disciplines of human geography and ecological engineering, which aimed at managing environmental space in favour of human welfare, made great changes in the 1980s. Karl Zimmerer has promoted the prospect and promise of integrating the discipline of human geography with so-­called new ecology. His intentions are very close to SES theory. ‘New ecology’ is a sort of short-­hand for the significant re-­orientation that has occurred in the field of biological ecology. Its research focuses on disequilibria, instability and even chaotic fluctuations in biophysical environments, both ‘natural’ and human-­impacted. This emphasis on the volatility of environmental change tests the conventional ecological wisdom that depicts nature as tending towards stability or a near-­constant balance. The ‘new ecology’ rejects the major premises of biological ecology qua systems ecology as practiced during the 1960s and the 1970s, as for example by Odum. Whereas systems ecology regards environments at diverse scales as systems tending towards equilibrium, the new ecology proclaims opposition to the idea of persistent system stability. This change of research direction could be integrated into the discipline of human geography and other disciplines in the social sciences and humanities that are concerned with biophysical environments. Human geography seems especially well positioned for Zimmerer in terms of probing the multi-­faceted ideas of new ecology. Particularly promising is the application of new ecology to the burgeoning study of environmental conservation and economic development. A central theme in conservation development is the provision of management guidelines for environmental conservation. An important parameter for reaching conservation goals is the convergence of local participation. Comparing environmental modifications of local land use with natural disturbances and making use of inhabitants’ recognition of environmental variation like studies of livestock carrying capacity could be useful contributions to understanding environmental conservation and its relation to economic development.480 Regarding the case of South Africa, strategies of conservation and land management did not produce any great changes over the decades. The most important schemes and measures were livestock reduction schemes, grazing strategies, and the protection of veld and vegetation. Already in 1950, The Farmer’s Weekly suggested reducing soil loss by using vegetation, crop residue and proper tillage. An important strategy was the reduction of soil loss due to wind action, which had to 479 George Benko, Ufl Strohmeyer (eds.), “Human Geography. A History for the 21st Century”. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 140, 141. 480 Karl Zimmerer, “Human Geography and the ‘New Ecology’: The Prospect and Promise of Integration”. Annals of the Association of American Geographers 84 (1) (1994), 108 – 125: 108, 109, 118, 119.

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be minimized. The author of the article argued that land management strategies could differ. Farms, parks and road cuts would be better protected by various types of windbreaks, whereas border planting, strip cropping, residue use and tillage methods were more applicable for protecting cultivated fields. Vegetative tools included seeding critical areas to grass cover crops, shelter bells, strip cropping, and border strips. The idea of vegetative tools was that plant residue left on the surface of cultivated fields and pasturelands could reduce soil losses. Mulch was also an effective method for preventing wind erosion, given that it cuts the force and prevents wind from striking the soil directly.481 An example of soil conservation measures in a white area was the establishment of soil conservation schemes in the Cumukala-­Kubusi Soil Conservation District situated in the Cape region, a division of Stutterheim. The commonages were part of the Municipality of Sutterheim. The Soil Conservation Districts were established by Proclamation No. 123 of 1923 and administered by the Village Management Board of the Upper Kubusi. The objects and scope of the scheme were plant management and livestock reduction. Farm plants could be prepared for groups of contiguous allotments. The allotment holders and erfholders had the right in common to graze their livestock on the commonages by restricting the kinds and numbers of the livestock to the carrying capacity of the soil and veld.482 Methods of soil conservation works did not strongly differ from those in black areas, although there was less control or coercion in white rural areas. The decisive differences were the conditions in the areas and the manner of implementing the schemes. Soil conservation works in the Cumukala-­Cumusi area comprised the erection of fences on the commonage and allotments to provide grazing camps, the preparation of land for sowing, strip cropping and rotation of crops, the conservation, protection and improvement of the veld and vegetation, the restriction of livestock numbers, and the management of grazing. Fences had to be erected for drinking places for livestock, which involved the construction of contour banks or terraces with diversion channels and waterways and the reclamation of sluits or smaller dongas. Moreover, so-­called conservation fences had to be erected. The preparation of land differed in drylands and irrigation land. All dryland was to be 481 Unknown Author, “Land Management”. Farmers Weekly 31. 5. 1950, KAB , ACLT , 654 177792 (Vol. 2). 482 Erfholder is a term from that often appears in the context of colonial interpretation of African land tenure systems and signified landholders. There were differences in different settlements, to the extent to which each ‘erfholder’ is absolute proprietor of his own ‘erf ’ and its attendant rights of commonage. See H. Bartle Frere, “On Systems of Land Tenure Among Aboriginal Tribes in South Africa”. The Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland 12 (1883), 258 – 276: 261.

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worked on the contour, whether by sub-­soiling, ploughing, harrowing, cultivation, or planting. Methods to protect the land were drains or channels, strip cropping in the case of slopes of 2 per cent or less, and systems of contour banks and terracing in cases of slopes greater than 10 per cent. Irrigated lands were divided into beds or sections on the contour but only to a degree not causing erosion. Owners of waterways gained a provision for the safety of water disposal. It was requested that a system of crop ration be practiced. One important measure of veld protection was the prevention of veld burning, whereby no owner or occupier should burn a veld at any time. Another problem in the conservation area was that natural forests comprising approximately 8,000 morgen were over-­grazed and had to be fenced off. The cutting of trees was strictly controlled. The control of livestock numbers was much more lenient than in Betterment Areas. Goats, donkeys and pigs were prohibited from running or grazing on the commonages. The number of livestock allowed to run was to be limited to 9,000 sheep and 1,500 head of mature large stock until 1 September 1953. In the upper Kubusi, there was a limit of 1,000 head of cattle and 6,000 sheep. More cattle could be kept, but then the sheep were to be reduced to the ratio of 1 sheep to 1 cow. The responsible committee would review the livestock figures. No culling took place. It was planned to implement a rotational grazing scheme. Grazing areas were divided into the required number of camps. Landowners did not receive any financial assistance.483 The annual report of the Soil Conservation Board from 1956/57 noted the slow success of conservation measures in certain districts. In the Cape Province, no difficulties were found regarding erosion or brackish conditions in dense settlements. The only exception was the Olifants River settlement. In the north-­ western areas of the Cape Province and the south-­western part of the Transvaal, the waterlogging of the Vallharts settlement was serious. In the Transvaal conservation, measures undertaken in dense settlements had a good start with concrete covers of irrigation settlements. Tenants and test tenants could use the methods suggested by the agricultural officers. There was an increasing interest in soil erosion measures on the side of tenants. In the Rietrivier settlement in the Orange Free State, there were problems of soil erosion, brackish conditions and water logging under the current management. In the case of this dense settlement, there was the unfavourable situation that both the Department of Agriculture and of Water Management applied working materials. Until the visit of the Department of Agriculture, the officers of the Soil Conservation Board tried to recycle the brackish grounds. Another problem was the implementation of conservation schemes on vacant land. In general, the land inspectors requested that more areas 483 Soil Conservation Scheme, July 1952, NASA , KAB , ACLT , 654 177792 (Vol. 2).

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be placed under conservation management. Tenants could use financial help from the Department of Agriculture to prevent or combat soil erosion. Many areas in these places were bushland.484 From the 1960s onwards, through diverse types of intervention, the South African government initiated schemes and strategies to address the problem of veld degradation. Most important were the Stock Reduction Scheme, the N ­ ational Grazing Strategy and numerous so-­called Disaster-­Drought Assistance Schemes.485 In 1966, a Disaster-­Drought Scheme was developed for the North-west Transvaal bush veld and the Northern Cape area. Initially, financial state aid was used for the removal of cattle, but normal farming methods were still impossible in these areas. Conditions in the disaster areas were still poor, although it rained in January and February. This would have had negative effects on the meat production in the North-­Western Transvaal, which held 18 per cent of the national production. Officers of the Department of Agriculture stated the necessity to rest half of the veld areas for two grazing seasons. Farmers were to be compensated. The grazing areas of North-­West Transvaal and Northern Cape were to be included in the recovery scheme on a voluntary basis. A financial compensation per large stock unit of eight morgen was paid. The scheme was implemented until September 1966.486 Another important measure in this Disaster-­Drought Scheme was that there should be no more feeding on exhausted veld. Farm sections were taken in rotation for rehabilitation. Farmers could choose how they wished to dispose of their cattle. Implementing the scheme through compulsion was seen as politically impracticable by the government.487 During the period from 1961 to 1977, a system of multi-­camp grazing was developed, as for example, on the ‘Hillside Ranch’ in Springfontein in the Orange Free State. Multi-­camp strategies of grazing management evolved in the whole country during this decade. Management applied under these schemes varied from heavy, non-­selective grazing to high intensity, short duration grazing and controlled selective grazing. The aim of multi-­camp schemes was an economic one, namely the steady and optimum production of meat and/or wool per hectare. The improvement of the degenerated veld in arid and semi-­arid areas by means of multi-­camp grazing was to lead to higher production levels. The farm chosen for the case study was a wool farm with merino sheep of 6,000 hectares. Wool farm 484 Department van Lande, Verslag van die Department van Lande 1967/1957, NASA , KAB , ACLT , 654 177792 (Vol. 2). 485 Timm Hoffman, Ally Ashwell, “Nature Divided. Land Degradation in South Africa”. (Cape Town: University of Cape Town Press, 2001), 33, 34, 35. 486 Departamente van Landbou tegniese Dienste en Landbou- ekonomie en -remarking, Kabinetmemorandum, Pretoria, 29. 4. 1966, NASA , SAB , TES 529 2/357/30, 1, 2, 4. 487 A Sensible Plan, Rand Daily Mail, 3. 8. 1966, NASA , SAB , TES 529 2 357/30.

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ing was the main industry in this area, with small pedigree herds of dairy or beef cattle as a side-­line. The original veld type of the Springfontein region called dry Cymbopogon-­Themeda or the degenerated variation of false Karoo was completely replaced by bitterbush and dongas.488 The vegetation was strongly influenced by rainfall. During the experimental period, a change took place from experimental non-­selective grazing, with high stocking rates and fixed rehabilitation phases, to short duration grazing. L. N. Howell defined the result as a highpoint. Through rapid rotation of once or twice a week, the veld recovered very quickly. The final grazing scheme was flexible: in the summer when the veld grew quickly, the livestock was supposed to graze for three days; when it was growing slowly it grazed for longer periods. The grass was not supposed to be cut too short. With the change to the short-­term grazing scheme, there was a shift in the scholarly approach from economic increase to rehabilitation. The emphasis shifted from the principle of non-­selective grazing with long rests for reclamation, to the principle of improving the soil surface for easier rehabilitation. Shorter grazing periods became a tool to prevent over-­grazing. There were two important results of the experimental veld improvement in Springfontein: first, an increase of grass cover with a resultant heavier carrying capacity of cattle; and second, the behaviour of the evergreen fodder grass. The increase in seedling establishment was measured based on its returning vigour. In summary, the experimental years on the Hillside Ranch showed that grazing management with multi-­camp schemes was capable of producing grass cover. Furthermore, it also resulted in the return and increase of rare and unknown grass variations.489 The Stock Reduction Scheme was developed in response to concerns about veld degradation in white commercial farming areas, especially of the Nama-­Karoo, Succulent Karoo, Grassland, and arid Savannah biomes. The scheme aimed at improving veld conditions by reducing livestock numbers, leaving vulnerable areas fallow, as well as the effective management of grazing land. Farmers were required to reduce the number of animals to one-­third below the stocking levels recommended by the Department of Agriculture and let one-­third of their grazing lands rest fallow each year. These measures were implemented between 1969 and 1978. More than 4,000 farmers – managing 16.6 per cent of South Africa’s land surface – volunteered to participate. The Department of Agriculture paid out almost 47R million in subsidies between 1969 and 1978. There was an improvement of the veld 488 Dongas are steep-­sided gullies created by soil erosion. 489 L. N. Howell, “Development of Multi-­Camp Grazing Systems in the Southern Orange Free State, Republic of South Africa”. Journal of Range Management 31 (6) (1978), 459 – 465: 459,461, 462, 464. Multi-­camp schemes refer to rotational grazing schemes in which a number of grazing sites are fenced.

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condition during this period, although it remains unclear whether the improvement was the result of the Stock Reduction Scheme or the high rainfalls between 1974 and 1978. Another important conservation strategy was the eradication of weeds and alien plants. Invading alien plants had been recognised as a problem since the 1850s. National legislation to control weeds and alien plants dates back to the Weeds Act No. 42 of 1937. This Act was changed several times prior to 1983. Under 1983 legislation, the Minister can declare any plant a weed or invader plant in any part of South Africa, with only a few exceptions. The selling or spreading of weeds is prohibited and landowners are required to clear and control weeds on their properties. Invader plants must be controlled to avoid negative effects on agricultural productivity.490 This policy has not been implemented consequently. In chapter two, I mentioned a Phormium Tenax plantation near the Kei River.491 In the 1970s, the industry lobbied the government and prevented research into the biological control of so-­called Black Wattle, which enabled the plant to be grown in plantations in the eastern parts of the country. The Australian Black Wattle is a dangerous invader on riverbanks in the Western Cape. Fast-­growing pines and wattles were introduced to provide raw materials for the timber, pulp, and tanning industries. Having become naturalized, they contribute to the alien invader problem by overrunning many river systems in South Africa.492 These voluntary conservation measures based on research programmes contradict the legislation on soil conservation described above. According to Delius and Schirmer, changes in soil conservation policy in the 1960s and 1970s certainly increased the effectiveness of soil conservation bureaucracy. This process was strongly connected to agricultural economic development. In the 1970s, a broader subsidisation of maize led to overproduction and ploughing of unusable land. Soil erosion as well as low yields remained serious problems throughout this decade. However, the policies were successful in the general discourse. The fears that soil erosion was continuing unabated became exaggerated. During the 1980s, dry weather caused a continuous yield decline and commercial grazing lands deteriorated. Intervention in the sector had an increasing environmental and financial cost after the late 1970s.493 A decisive step in soil conservation legislation was the Amended Soil Conservation Act of 1969, which centralised soil conservation work in the white South African state and stopped diverse grants and subsidies, 490 Hoffman, Ashwell, Nature Divided, 35, 36, 37. 491 Skakelbeamte (Akerbou) to Direkteur van Naturellenlandbou, 1132/127 (5), Besoek aan die Transkei, 10. – 22. 10. 1955, NASA , SAB , NTS 1026248432. 492 Hoffman, Ashwell, Nature Divided, 37. 493 Nick Vink, Stefan Schirmer, “Agriculture 1970 – 2000”, Stuart Jones (ed.), “The Decline of South African Economy”. (Cheltenham: Edward Elger Publishing, 2002), 51 – 68: 67, 68.

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which had been earlier easy to receive. Now, soil erosion work was not undertaken on a voluntary, highly subsidised basis. The Minister could enforce conservation measures in cases of pollution or erosion. These measures could affect the cultivation of land, including its ploughing, the protection, stabilising or temporary withdrawal of land from cultivation, the application of crop rotation to the land, and the disposal of crop remnants and plant residues, that is, the laying out of lands. Agricultural practices had to be changed in cases where vegetation had been destroyed or trees planted in natural watercourses needed for the drainage of vleis, marshes, and natural water sponges. Withdrawing from cultivation was a possible measure for protecting and stabilising natural water courses. Also possible was temporary withdrawal from grazing to stabilise any soil surface, including mountain slopes or natural water courses, subject to erosion or vegetation denuding. The use of areas reserved as water catchment areas was put under legal provisions. The duties of landowners included protecting and stabilising coast barrier dunes or other drift-­sand dunes and their vegetation; burning of pasturage; the resting and utilizing of pasturage; regulating the number of livestock that could be kept on land and keeping registers for such livestock; preventing erosion, denudation, disturbance or drainage of the land; preventing, controlling and extinguishing veld, mountain and forest fires; as well as preventing any other disturbance of the soil that could create conditions causing any form of erosion or water pollution through silt or drift-­sand. The Minister also had the power to order landowners to construct and maintain soil conservation works if he believed this necessary for achieving the requirements of the Soil Conservation Act with respect to the owner’s land. The next important step in conservation legislation concerned financial matters. The costs of the construction and maintenance of soil conservation works constructed under the Act’s provisions were to be borne by the person who had been ordered by the Minister to construct such works. If a land owner refused to carry out soil conservation work measures, the Prime Minister and officials could recover the costs from such an owner. Subsidies and grants for soil conservation works could still be provided to landowners, but such decisions had to be made by the Prime Minister on an individual basis. Another important reform was the centralisation of the soil conservation staff. Soil conservation committees were established by the government, rather than being self-­organised on a voluntary basis by landowners.494 494 Republic of South Africa, “Act No. 76, 1969, Soil Conservation Act”. Government Gazette, 18. 6. 1969, Vol. 48, no. 2437 (1969). 2 – 21: 2, 3, 4, 10, 11, 12, 14, Reproduced by Sabinet Online in terms of Government Printer’s Copyright Authority No. 10505 dated 02 February 1998, , accessed 25. 10. 2016.

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The strong connection between environmentalism, agriculture and economy can also be seen in the overarching Conservation of Agricultural Resources Act of 1983. It sought to maintain the productivity of the land by ensuring the conservation of water, soil and vegetation resources. The Act empowered the state to impose relatively harsh penalties if soil conservation measures were not practiced. Landowners were required to refrain from cultivating virgin soil and steep slopes without the permission of the Department of Agriculture. Farmers also had the duty to prevent and control soil waterlogging, prevent salinization, restore and reclaim eroded land, and construct and maintain soil conservation works. According to Timm Hoffmann, the Department of Agriculture took a lenient approach to these soil conservation policy, although the state had far-­ reaching powers to forcefully implement conservation measures on white farms. The 1983 Act also introduced new research into the measures for protecting grazing lands. Herein lies one important difference regarding conservation management between commercial areas and communal areas (which were always African areas). Considerable research into veld management was only carried out in the commercial farming areas, whereas very little was undertaken in the communal areas. Veld management measures included the general protection of vegetation and control of its use, setting conservative grazing norms, prevention and control of veld fires, and the control of weeds and invader plants. Interventions encouraging judicious grazing in commercial farming areas were on a voluntary basis. In 1985, the government announced the National Grazing Strategy, which was concerned with sustainable agricultural development. It proposed an integrated action programme comprising an information campaign, study groups, agricultural research, and curriculum development in agricultural colleges, as well as more rigorous and better management of agricultural extension services. However, even after six years very little progress had been made, either in research or monitoring.495 Soil conservation policies in white areas during Apartheid era were contradictory. Efforts to combat land degradation were expressed in various voluntary conservation programs based on scientific approaches. Research was strongly management-­oriented. Ecological research and ecological engineering were strongly connected to the economic goal of creating an effective agriculture sector. On the other side, sharper legislation gave more power to the state, although this seemed to be little used. It is unclear whether conservation measures ultimately reduced soil erosion. One clear change was seen in the land tenure system, which shifted in favour of large farm owners. 495 Hoffman, Ashwell, Nature Divided, 34, 35.

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3.2.3 Ecological Engineering in African Areas

Betterment, the form of ecological engineering in the African Reserves and Homelands, was different from ecological engineering in white areas in one significant way. It combined practical land reclamation with land-­use planning. The process of the concentration of scattered rural settlements into concentrated villages was described in chapter two. Practical conservation measures did not differ much from those in white areas: prescribing grazing and cultivation areas, fencing of camps to enable rotational grazing, implementation of anti-­erosion measures and the building of dipping tanks to combat livestock disease. In the analysis of the Betterment programmes, it has become clear that policies of separation and dispossession were at the root of African village planning and the subsequent ecological problems. According to Joanne Yawitch and others, the origins of Betterment Schemes date back further than the segregation era. Their basic pattern was thus a settlement pattern, not a conservation measure. The one-­man-­one-­plot principle can be traced back to the Glen Grey Act of 1894, which provided surveyed allotments under individual tenure. I have already described the quitrent and individual tenure system in the Ciskei in the first chapter. The issue of conservation was a result of this land distribution. An allotment of four morgen was uneconomical and could not provide subsistence; it did however guarantee enough migrant labour. Yawitch argues that the over-­grazing, erosion, and denudation of the Reserves and later Homelands were the inevitable consequence of limited access to land and the economic agricultural basis being undermined. The decisive mistake of the Betterment Schemes was to define the problem as a technical one, namely, as due to African ‘bad farming’, including the desire to accrue more cattle and unwillingness to accept crop rotation, while ignoring and continuing the unequal distribution of land. Dividing the land, livestock limitations, and anti-­erosion measures were seen as the ultimate solution by the segregation and later Apartheid government. Distorting and impractical political and economic factors that forced Reserve and Homeland agriculture to deteriorate were ignored. Soil erosion measures were implemented without consideration of social conditions or their causes. In the end, such measures only served to antagonize the local populations.496 In chapter two, I have shown the process of Betterment Areas being enforced according to Proclamation 31 of 1939 and Proclamation 116 of 1949. It is clear that livestock limitations and cattle culling were the most contentious issue of Betterment, although there were 496 Yawitch, Betterment, 10, 1.

Measures of Ecological Engineering in South Africa  |

local differences in Betterment and village planning. Limiting the number of livestock was one of the most significant differences in the conservation schemes of black and white areas. While livestock limitation was also practiced in white soil erosion areas, it was implemented without violence. No cattle were forcibly culled and in many cases, farmers received grants to reduce their stock. In African areas, livestock limitation were seen by officials as a fundamental necessity if rehabilitation was to be successful. In addition to over-­stocking, the quality of the livestock was considered poor and supposedly would deteriorate without the control of over-­breeding. A higher liability to disease hampered a provision of good draught animals and expedited over-­grazing. According to Yawitch, to understand the violence that occurred in connection with stock limitation measures, it is important to look at the reasons why the African rural population placed so much significance on possessing livestock. Animal husbandry is a livelihood. Cattle are a form of wealth and a means of accumulating capital. They are also a means of exchange in many African societies. Another important reason to reject limitation measures was that livestock sales, a captive market for framers and speculators, were almost closed for African farmers. Settlement planning as well as livestock limitation and soil erosion measures changed over the years. In the 1950s, rural areas were relatively well organised, although I have also shown some contradictions in chapter two. Planning reports were couched in careful terms and stressed that struggles with local populations should not be risked, although force was increasingly used after 1955.497 By the late 1960s and 1970s, planning had changed toward forced resettlement and mass removals. I have also pointed out that later reports were highly inaccurate and no longer show attempts to implement the planning as set out by Tomlinson. It is clear that later settlement planning was aimed at accommodating masses of so-­called surplus people. With this development, ecological engineering became less important. Reducing livestock numbers remained the main means for avoiding further land degradation. Documents on the count and cull of livestock show how different this was undertaken in various places: first, reports were often incomplete; second, some settlements were not over-­stocked, but rather under-­ stocked; and third, in some villages, cattle were strictly culled, whereas in others, no culling took place despite being over-­stocked. After 1955, reports show that the registration of livestock numbers in African areas was more or less systematized. In Vlakfontein – which is well documented – there was a continuous state of under-­stocking after 1956. In February 1956, the Senior Agricultural Officer Daverin reported an assessed carrying capacity of 730 cattle units and a relation 497 Ibidem, 12, 43.

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of large to small stock of 1:4:4. Only 536 cattle units were counted. Nevertheless, 454 units were presented for culling, although only one was culled. A rate of under-­stocking of 277 cattle units remained.498 In May 1956, 481 cattle units were counted.499 A notice written by D. A. Molema in the same year recommended limiting the numbers of donkeys.500 In October and November 1956, a count in the Vlakfontein, Groenwater and Skyfontein Reserves took place, whereby it was determined that all three were under-­stocked. The assessed carrying capacity in Groenwater Reserve was 1,730 cattle units. There was no spread. In Skyfontein, there were 1,906 cattle units. There was also no spread. The assessed carrying capacity in Vlakfontein was 730 cattle units. There was no extension and no culling took place in all three Reserves.501 Table 3.1: Cattle in Groenwater Reserve (GR), Skyfontein Reserve (SR) and Vlakfontein Reserve (VR)

Place GR SR VR

Cows Heifers Oxen Calves Horses Donkeys Sheep Bocks Bulls 392 197 34

84 15 17

44 16 13

37 0 0

145 140 48

284 265 141

1002 2378 404

979 2529 202

0 2 1

Cattle Units 1382 1616 478

Numbers taken from: Union of South Africa, Stock Limitation Vlakfontein, Naturelle vee geteel op 17. 10. 1956, 22. 10. 1956, NASA, KAB 2/KMN 49 8/5/3/1.

The distribution of cattle units could also differ. The largest Reserve, Skyfontein, had the most extreme distribution of cattle, with a high proportion of owners of fewer cattle units, but four owners who owned a majority of the stock.502

498 Senior Agricultural Officer Mr. Daverin, Stock Limitation Vlakfontein, 27. 2. 1956, NASA , KAB , 2/KMN 49 8/5/3/ (1). 499 Agricultural Officer, 24. 5. 1956, NASA , KAB , 2/KMN 49 8/5/3/ (1). 500 D. A. Molema, Notice 13. 10. 1956, Donkey Limitation, 24. 10. 1956, NASA , KAB , 2/KMN 49 8/5/3/ (1). 501 Naturelle Vee Geteel op Groenwater en Skyfontein op 17. 10. 1956, Naturelle Vee Geteel op Vlakfontein 22. 10. 1956, Keuring Kuruman Distrikt 9. 11. 1956, NASA , KAB , 2/KMN 49 8/5/3/ (1). 502 Naturelle Vee Geteel op Groenwater en Skyfontein op 17. 10. 1956, Naturelle Vee Geteel op Vlakfontein 22. 10. 1956, Keuring Kuruman Distrikt 9. 11. 1956, NASA , KAB , 2/KMN 49 8/5/3/ (1).

Measures of Ecological Engineering in South Africa  |

Figure 3.1: Cattle Units per Farmer in 1956 in Reserves

Numbers taken from: Union of South Africa, Stock Limitation Vlakfontein, Naturelle vee geteel op 17. 10. 1956, 22. 10. 1956, NASA, KAB 2/KMN 49 8/5/3(1)

One year later, the stock numbers had increased in Vlakfontein. There were fewer cows, heifers and oxen, but a large increase of goats and sheep. This might have been in sense of the assessed ratio of small and large livestock. The distribution of cattle had also split.503

503 Vlakfontein, 4. 10. 1957, NASA , KAB , 2/KMN 49 8/5/3/ (1). Tables from the same source.

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Figure 3.2: Growth in Cattle Units in Vlakfontein from 1956 to 1957

Numbers taken from: Union of South Africa, Stock Limitation Vlakfontein, Naturelle vee geteel op, 22. 10. 1956, 4. 10. 1957, NASA, KAB 2/KMN 49 8/5/3(1).

Another explanation for this increase in livestock ownership could be a forced centralisation of cattle units by officials. Another Betterment measure in the Kuruman district seemed to have involved ejecting owners of fewer cattle units in favour of an economic unit. This was practiced in the Manremeine Reserve in 1960 and 1961. Owners of one or two units of sheep had to make room for persons with an economic unit, and were resettled on common ground blocks. After the declaration of the Reserve into a Betterment Area, all inhabitants were resettled into small apartment blocks and cattle breeding was extremely limited.504 A major reduction of livestock and a cattle distribution in favour of small cattle owners took place in the Ngamakwe District in the Transkei. In the Mkatshane Ward of Mlliaka Location No. 3, an assessment of 1,261 cattle units was calculated after the allocation of separate camping capacities to different sets of camps. A count in 1962 determined an over-­stocking rate of 221 cattle units. The cull was accomplished on a certain scaling scheme. The number of culled stock was dependant on the number of cattle the owner possessed.505 504 Van Heerden, Proklameer tot Verbeteringsgebied: Laer Kuruman Gathese en Manremeine Reservatie, 8. 12. 1960 – 18. 8. 1961, NASA , KAB , 2/KMN 49 8/5/3 (3). 505 P. S. Botha, Magistrate, Bantu Affairs Commissioner, Stock Limitation Mkatsshane Ward, Ngamakwe District, 9. 3. 1963 – 9. 9. 1963, NASA , KAB , 1/NKE 91 8/5/3/20, 16.

Measures of Ecological Engineering in South Africa  |

Table 3.2: Culling Scheme Mkatshane Ward

No. of Cattle Units   1 – 7   8 – 11 12 – 15 16 – 19 20 – 29 30 – 39 40 – 50 51 – 59 60 – 70 71 – 78

No. of Owners 83 23 12 9 9 6 2 3 2 1

Cull per Owner 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 11

Total Cull 0 23 24 27 36 30 12 21 16 11

200 cattle units were culled. Source: P. S. Botha, Magistrate, Bantu Affairs Commissioner, Stock Limitation Mkatsshane Ward, Ngamakwe District, 9. 3. 1963 – 9. 9. 1963, NASA, KAB, 1/NKE 91 8/5/3/20, 16.

In September 1963, every camp had an over-­stocking rate: 42 units in Ndebane, 11 units in Etunega, and 66 units in Komkulu. Following the suggestion of Headman Mkatshane, it was decided at a meeting to practice a scale cull again, rather than a mass cull.506 In the Manaquaba Location 3 in the same district, the number of stock was reduced to a state of under-­stocking within two years. In 1961, a carrying capacity of 570 cattle units was assessed. A count in October 1961 resulted in a surplus of 63 units.507 Table 3.3: Resulting Count in Manaquaba Location 3, 3 October 1961

Ward 1 2 3

Cattle 126 176 141 443

Calves 5 9 1 15

Sheep 432 595 261 1288

Lambs 44 73 39 156

Goats 18 0 26 44

Cows 20 20 3 45

n. a.508 Cattle Units 2 232 3 308 103 5 643

506 P. S. Botha, Magistrate, Bantu Affairs Commissioner, Stock Limitation Mkatsshane Ward, Ngamakwe District, 9. 3. 1963 – 9. 9. 1963, NASA , KAB , 1/NKE 91 8/5/3/20, 16 507 Stock Limitation Ngamakwe, Manaquaba Loc. 3, 11. 7. 1961 – 21. 8. 1963, NASA , KAB , 1/ NKE  91 N8/5/3/19. 508 N. a. refers to missing data. Six sheep were defined as one cattle unit. Tables 3.3 and 3.4 are taken from the same source.

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Further soil erosion measures involved the fencing of the ward and the building of dams to alieve the water shortage. In October 1962, there was an excess of 9 cattle units. A count on 21 August 1963 resulted in an under-­stocking rate of 74 units.509 Table 3.4: Resulting Count in Manaquaba Location 3, 21 August 1963

Ward 1 2 3 Total

Cattle Calves Sheep Lambs Goats 102 16 267 96 26 154 22 366 156 24 46 5 183 45 0 302 43 816 291 50

n. a. 9 0 6 15

Horses 24 27 3 54

Foals 1 0 1 2

Cattle Units 174 242 18 496

Tables and Figures 3.3, 3.4 are taken from: Stock Limitation Ngamakwe, Manaquaba Loc. 3, 11. 7. 1961 – 21. 8. 1963, NASA, KAB, 1/NKE 91 N8/5/3/19.

This understocking could also have consequences on the structure of cattle ownership. The distribution of cattle in the Maqualea Ward in the Manaquaba Location had changed, whereby there were more owners with 2 to 8 cattle units and only one large cattle owner.510 In a third place in the Ngamakwe District, the Dudumashes Ward, under-­ stocking was reached within one year. On 24 September 1962, an over-­stocking rate of 64 cattle units was counted. One year later, a count determined an under-­ stocking rate of 180 cattle units.511

509 Stock Limitation Ngamakwe, Manaquaba Loc. 3, 11. 7. 1961 – 21. 8. 1963, NASA , KAB , 1/ NKE  91 N8/5/3/19. 510 Stock Limitation Ngamakwe, Manaquaba Loc. 3, 11. 7. 1961 – 21. 8. 1963, NASA , KAB , 1/ NKE  91 N8/5/3/19. 511 Count and Cull Dudumashes Ward 1962 and 1962, 24. 9. 1962 – 23. 8. 1963, NASA , KAB , 1/ NKE 91 N8/5/3/19.Tables 3.5 and 3.6 are taken from the same source.

Measures of Ecological Engineering in South Africa  |

Table 3.5: Count Dudumashes, 24 September 1962

Ward 1962 1 2 3 4 5 Total 1963 1 2 3 4 5 Total

Cattle Calves Sheep Lambs Goats

n. a.

Horses Foals

Cattle Units

129 118 143 159 106 655

25 18 24 22 10 94

360 319 685 495 464 2383

72 78 138 122 142 352

12 11 22 32 3 80

2 1 4 4 2 12

11 24 31 22 26 120

1 4 5 2 1 13

215 223 321 290 225 1274

112 128 144 128 95 607

21 10 19 21 17 88

256 282 454 389 375 1756

87 84 125 118 114 528

4 9 14 30 1 58

0 1 2 5 0 8

10 23 40 21 26 120

0 2 5 3 0 10

165 199 262 216 185 1030

Table 3.6: Cull Dudumashes 1962

No. of Cattle Units   1 – 12 13 – 20 21 – 29 30 – 35 36 – 40 41 – 81 Total

No. of Owners 108 15 6 4 4 1

Cull per Owner 0 1 2 3 4 9

Total Cull 0 15 12 12 16 6 64 Units Culled

Tables 3.5 and 3.6 are taken from: Count and Cull Dudumashes Ward 1962 and 1962, 24. 9. 1962 – 23. 8. 1963, NASA, KAB, 1/NKE 91 N8/5/3/19.

The scale cull method was not practiced in all districts. In chapter two I described the settlement planning and, in this context, the livestock reduction in various locations in the Peddie district. In the Durban Mission Location, Lots 16, 17, 22, 20, 24 of the Trust properties, Pato’s Kop Location, Newtondale Location No. 12, Dank-­den Gowernor and Ferndale Location experienced a mass culling; there is reference to cattle distribution. In general, there were few owners of large numbers of livestock in the Peddie District locations. No inhabitant owned more than 17 cattle units. In the Dank-­den Gowernor Location, no person owned more than 7 units.512 512 Native Affairs Department, Stock Improvement, Peddie, NASA , SAB , NTS 7569 881/327.

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In the Lesseyton Location in the Whittlesea District, the counting and culling of livestock was part of various soil erosion measures. The Bantu Affairs Commissioner Wilson, together with Headman George Tabata, implemented a rotational grazing scheme until 1968. Small livestock were isolated and sheep were allowed to graze in closed camps. The area was divided into 18 grazing camps that were opened in monthly intervals. Two camps were even closed for nearly a year, from 1 September 1967 to 1 August 1968.513 I already described the settlement planning of the Tzitzikama Location in chapter two. The planning involved various agricultural and soil erosion schemes. The report was almost complete and involved a detailed description of environmental conditions and conservation steps. The soil was badly leached and fertility poor.514 The soil was badly damaged by dongas. Little land excessed a slope of 10 per cent. The veld mainly comprised Aristides and Eragosties species, with patches of Themeda Triandra. Due to heavy over-­grazing by sheep, there was an infestation of bush scrubs. The condition was ‘short’. The crops grown were maize, beans and wheat in the winter. The types of stock were cattle, merino sheep and angora goats, with a stock rate of one cattle unit per 2.7 morgen. The existing stock rate in 1965 was 1 sheep to 3 goats, although the proposed ratio was 1:4. The ad hoc committee recommended mixed farming with both livestock and crop production. A rapid recovery of the maize fields was expected under controlled conditions, with rotational grazing and livestock reduction.515 These rehabilitation schemes and soil erosion measures do not differ much from those described in chapter 2 in the context of village planning. The measures defined by officials as planning or conservation were almost identical. The described phase of forced planning and conservation ecological engineering was embedded into several measures whose design was clearly to gain control over the Reserves. The most important feature was limiting the number of livestock. Over-­grazing is a significant cause of soil erosion. However, this was not the main reason that officials focussed on livestock reduction in the Reserves and Homelands. As mentioned above, livestock ownership was the economic and social livelihood for the majority of Africans. Accordingly, controlling livestock meant controlling the African population. 513 Correspondence between Bantu Affairs Commissioner Whittlesea and Headman Lesseyton George Tabata, Native Settlement Rehabilitation, Lesseyton Location, 2. 3. 1965 – 18. 1. 1968, NASA , KAB , 1/WSA 80 N2/11/3/6. 514 Leach in this context refers to the loss of water-­soluble plant nutrients from the soil, or applying a small amount of excess irrigation to avoid soil salinity. 515 Bantoe Administration and Development, Rehabilitation and Resettlement, Tzitzikama, 1. 12. 1964 – 26. 4. 1965, NASA , KAB , 1/WSA / 80 N2/11/3-21.

Soil Erosion in Different Landscapes and Land-­Use Patterns  |

3.3 Soil Erosion in Different Landscapes and Land-­Use Patterns Soil erosion, land use, and land cover change cannot be examined in South Africa without examining the system of racial segregation. According to many environmental researchers, communal farms differ significantly from private ones in cover, composition and grades of degradation. Communal farming has often been regarded as the responsible factor for environmental problems and ineffective agriculture. According to Timm Hoffmann, this view changes if one examines the unequal land distribution under the colonial and Apartheid governments. A closer look at soil erosion, different biomes in South Africa, and the different conditions in communal and commercial rural areas will clarify the causes of soil erosion and help sort out the patterns in the links between land cover changes, land-­use patterns and a racialized society. 3.3.1 Desertification and Land Degradation

According to Timm Hoffmann, to approach the question of environmentalism and society it is necessary to have an overview of the status of land degradation in South Africa. In this study, the terms soil erosion, land degradation and desertification are often used. These terms have been cited from various reports and studies without further definition. To proceed, it is necessary to take a closer look at them. The term desertification has several contradictory definitions. It was introduced in the 1940s to describe a series of degradation processes in tropical Africa. According to definitions of the United Nations Convention to Combat Desertification (UNCCD ), it means ‘land degradation in arid, semi-­arid or dry sub-­humid areas resulting from various factors, including climatic variations and human activities’. It is primarily caused by poor land management, such as over-­cultivation, over-­ grazing, deforestation and ineffective irrigation. Desertification often follows local over-­grazing, which leads to the loss of vegetation cover. Separate poorly managed patches of land, possibly far away from natural deserts, become degraded. Land degradation is the loss of biological or economic productivity of an area caused primarily by human activities. It can occur in any climatic zone, although the areas under consideration by the UNCCD are arid, semi-­arid and dry sub-­humid areas. Such areas are collectively called drylands.516 For an overview of the South African environment, it is necessary to determine the reasons for soil erosion and land degradation since these are caused not only 516 Hoffman, Ashwell, Nature Divided, 3.

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by environmental factors, but also be political, social, and economic ones. First, it is important to note that soil erosion, the curse of the 20th century, is only one factor in land degradation. In South Africa, to develop a national programme for combatting land degradation, a national review of the soil and veld degradation problems was conducted in 1997 and 1998. The results were based on reports of agricultural extension workers and resource conservation technicians from the Department of Agriculture. The aim was to develop a comprehensive map of the status of land degradation in South Africa, particularly regarding soil and vegetation resources. Hoffman and Todd and their research group decided on two degradation indices – soil degradation and veld degradation. The two indices were subsequently added together to form a single combined index of degradation, which imported both soil and vegetation parameters. These parameters included different types of degradation, such as water and wind erosion, loss of cover, change in composition of plant species, bush encroachment, alien plant invasions, and deforestation. Hoffmann and Todd also used land tenure systems as a parameter.517 Table 3.7: Combined Index of Land Degradation

Province Eastern Cape Free State Gauteng KwaZulu Natal Mpulanga Northern Cape Northern Province North-­west Western Cape Commercial Districts Communal Districts

Number of Magisterial Districts 78 51 22 51 30 26 39 28 42 262 105

Soil Degradation Index (SDI) 200 48 113 253 143 92 255 149 77 102 292

Veld Degradation Index (VDI) 116 86 31 187 81 140 189 122 93 96 183

Combined Degradation Index VDI + SDI) 316 134 143 440 223 232 444 270 170 198 475

Source: M. Timm Hoffman, M. E. Meadows, The Nature, Extent and Causes of Land Degradation in South Africa: Legacy of the Past, Lessons for the Future? Area 34, 4 (2002), 428 – 437: 434. The information is based on the reports of Agricultural Extension Officers and Resource Conservation Technicians gathered during a series of 34 consultative workshops held during 1997 and 1998 to conduct a national review of land degradation problems. See also: M. Timm Hoffman, Simon Todd, “A National Review of Land Degradation in South Africa: The Influence of Biophysical and Socio-­Economic Factors”. Journal of Southern African Studies 26 (4) (2000), 743 – 758.

517 Hoffman, Ashwell, Nature Divided, 80, 97, 123. Hoffman, Todd, National Review of Land Degradation, 743, 746, 747.

Soil Erosion in Different Landscapes and Land-­Use Patterns  |

Physiography affects rainfall and temperature. In areas with high rainfall and steep slopes, soil is generally susceptible to erosion by water. South Africa has areas lying along the coast and into the Lowveld in the north of the country. The great escarpment in the east is highest in the Drakensberg. The interior of South Africa is a vast plateau sloping gradually from 1,500 to 1,000 meters. The soil types vary greatly in fertility and texture as well as in their ability to absorb, restrain and redistribute water. These are important factors in the susceptibility of soil to erosion. Climate is one of the most important factors determining the natural vegetation and agriculture of an area. On average South Africa receives about 500 mm rainfall every year. The rainfall is not evenly distributed across the country. Two very different rainfall patterns exist. Most of the country experiences summer rainfall, while winter rainfall occurs in the west. Natural regions can also be classified in terms of their relative dryness or aridity. The following table shows the annual rainfall distribution and the corresponding climatic classification as measured in 1999. Table 3.8: Annual rainfall distribution and climatic classification in South Africa, 1999

Rainfall (mm) 2,000 mm) accounted for the greatest part (89.2 per cent) of all sampled sites, which is typical for Grassland soils. Commercial farms (90.7 per cent), land reform farms (89.2 per cent) and the nature reserve (91.9 per cent) exhibited a similar amount of macroaggregates. In contrast, the soils of the communal farms differed in structural stability. They were less aggregated and thus accounted for lower proportions of macroaggregates (85.2 per cent) and larger proportions of the small macroaggregates, large microaggregates, and small microaggregates. Additional, the number of large macroaggregates decreased with increasing grazing intensity in the order good > moderate > poor rangeland conditions. Therefore, the opposite was true for the number of small macroaggregates. The other rangeland management systems did not reveal any distinct trends. The results evolved from this study showed distinct effects of grazing intensity on the main soil properties within the piosphere (poor and moderate rangeland 7 48 Ibidem, 224. 749 Ibidem, 225.

Environmental History  |

condition) of clayey soils in the Grassland biome. Different rangeland management systems also influence the magnitude of the impact. Hence, soil analyses confirm that fences and appropriate grazing periods are necessary to manage these rangelands sustainably.750 The communal farming system in the Post-­Apartheid Era was judged as the reason for over-­grazing. The recommended stocking rate for the area of Thaba Nchu is 6 ha per livestock unit (LSU ) (Dept. of Agric., 2003). This rate is usually exceeded on communal farms. There, over-­stocking accompanied the subsidisation from 1977 to 1994, and the collapse of institutions after the end of Apartheid severely impacted the rangeland around water points in the Thaba Nchu area. The situation can be compared to Hardin’s concept of the tragedy of the commons.751 The conclusions of the authors are problematic in various respects. There is nothing wrong with the suggestion of fences and appropriate grazing methods. However, these do not automatically correspond to commercial farming systems. Using studies of Timm Hoffmann and others, it has become clear that prejudices regarding communal tenure, such as it causing degraded environments, low productivity, and irreconcilable class divisions are often based on very short-­sighted, uniform definitions of the communal system as a replication of pre-­colonial practices. This becomes clear in the point of grazing management, which is criticised by the authors of the study. However, this is not necessarily a characteristic of communal land tenure. Case studies in chapter 3 above have shown that there are different grazing systems among communal farms. Rangeland management and environmental interactions within communal system can be environmentally beneficial rather than the opposite. The land tenure system is only one parameter in the complex pattern of factors influencing environmental history. It is also important to keep in mind that a direct comparison of communal and commercial farms in South Africa is generally a questionable approach. Throughout the 20th century, commercial farms and communally managed areas had different population pressures, cultivation practices, stocking densities, resource use, tenure arrangements, and levels of state support. Another study on vegetation change by group A3 of the RCR in a research area near Thaba Nchu town has shown correlations to grazing intensity but not to land tenure systems. Plant communities fulfil key functions in ecosystems, which can be characterised by their plant functional traits. In functional ecology, plant communities are considered to hold a set of attributes reflecting specific plant adaptation strategies to survive in the environment to which they are exposed. 7 50 Ibidem, 227. 751 Ibidem, 227.

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The study examined how community-­aggregated plant functional traits (CPFT ) are shaped by grazing gradients, which plant strategies are associated with the response of CPFT s, and whether environmental factors such as soil properties and grazing management are interrelated with the functional response of vegetation to grazing gradients. Grazing intensity decreased along piosphere transects, from water points into the field. Most CPFT s responded to this decreasing gradient of grazing intensity and thus allowed derivation of trait syndromes that clearly reflect plant strategies of ruderal and competitive vegetation. Close to water points, plants had higher nitrogen concentrations, fewer cell wall components, and higher specific leaf area. Hence, light capture is faster and more efficient per leaf area and leaf mass. Plant communities exposed to intensive grazing were well adapted to defoliation, trampling, and nutrient accumulation through fast growth rates and quick return strategies. In the sacrifice zone around water points, there is an ecological niche for vegetation communities exhibiting a strategy of fast growth that is well adapted to intense and frequent grazing and is also associated with forage of high nutritional quality. Tenure systems were not distinguishable in their response of CPFT , neither among near nor among intermediate positions to water points.752 This study was conducted in Fransina, Rustdam, Middeldeel, and Sediba.753 The Centre for Development Support stated in a 2003 study of land indicators that land in the Mangaung Municipality 754 was in a satisfactory condition, with a high percentage of natural vegetation. Nevertheless, according to the UNCCD index described in chapter 3, the whole region is classified as ‘affected drylands’ with Nama-­Karoo encroachment. According to the Environmental Protection Atlas of Natural of South Africa (ENAP ) published by the Department of Environmental Affairs and Tourism in 1997, the areas around Thaba Nchu and Botshabelo had a higher potential for erosion than the rest of the municipality. This fact corresponded to a higher concentration of stock in the eastern areas. In the western areas, methods of the dominant crop farming were also regarded as agricultural pressure on the soil, such as soil salination through monocultures and extensive use of non-­organic fertilisers and agrochemicals. These are methods that are more typical for commercial farming than communal farming in the region. Soil erosion due to unsustainable farming practices was mostly experienced in 752 Cristian A. Moreno García et al., “Response of Community-­Aggregated Plant Functional Traits along Grazing Gradients: Insights from African Semi-­Arid Grasslands”. Applied Vegetation Science 17 (3) (2014), 470 – 481: 470, 478. 753 See figure 4.1. 754 Mangaung Local Municipality – since 2011, Mangaung Metropolitan Municipality – is one of the three municipalities of the Motheo district in the post-­Apartheid administration.

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Botshabelo, Ward 27, Section H, and in Thaba Nchu in Moroka, Ratlou, Ward 42, Albert Moroka High School.755 The next sections will describe the changing the environmental conditions of the district. 4.4.2 Betterment

The Betterment measures introduced from the late 1930s onwards not only changed the people’s living conditions but also environmental conditions. In the end, it caused the SES to collapse in the Thaba Nchu District. Arable lands and ploughing practices only became the focus of soil conservation works in the late 1940s, after government officials had noticed a ‘local antipathy to disturbance of ploughed lands’.756 When in the early 1940s government officials began the demarcation of arable, grazing, and residential areas and the division of fields into plots of four morgen each, environmental conditions were strongly influenced by the opposition of the inhabitants, especially the Sediba inhabitants. The call for rigorous interventions became louder after the publication of the NEC report in 1932. The addendum to the evidence for the Thaba Nchu District described above by the lawyer Frank Archibald William Lucas provides an overview of the environmental conditions. Lucas stresses several times that the Barolong-­owned farms were severely over-­stocked and degraded. Regarding the ecological status, he concluded that the ‘vegetation is becoming scanty, and the bush is being destroyed which is causing enormous soil erosion.’757 Irrespective of the question of whether a lawyer has the expertise to judge the state of the environment, it is essential to question the extent a degradation of the veld was actually occurring. For this, one should keep in mind that the early 1930s marked a critical phase in large parts of Africa, as it was a period of a protracted drought that led to massive livestock losses and harvest failures in southern and eastern African countries. The Reserves in Thaba Nchu District were also stricken by famine.758 As stated above, both the Thaba Nchu and Sediba Reserves, as well as other land purchased by the SANT , were quickly declared Betterment Areas in 1939. The Proclamation provided the legal framework for the culling of livestock, which 755 Centre for Development Support, “Mangaung. State of the Environment Report” (2003) 68, 69, 70. 756 Assistant Engineer, Pretoria, to the Engineer in the Northern Areas, Pretoria, 3 January 1939, NASA , SAB , NTS 9502 138/400/5. 757 Union of South Africa, Report of Native Economic Commission, 180. 758 Naumann, Where We Used to Plough, 80, 81.

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was conducted in the district recurrently during the 1940s and 1950s. In 1941 alone, government officials culled about 30 per cent of the animals on the Thaba Nchu Reserve, 25 per cent on the Sediba Reserve, and 30 per cent in the newly established Trust villages Tweefontein, Rietfontein, Klipfontein, and Gladstone. During these first culling operations, it was normal for goats and donkeys to be almost always eliminated completely, horses reduced to a minimum of one or two per owner, and sheep reduced by 50 per cent or more. Cattle were only culled if they were aged animals. Culled animals were branded with a ‘C’ and had to be removed from the Betterment Areas by a predetermined date, either by selling or slaughtering. Although oxen were not the main focus of the initial culling operations, later the numbers of draught animals were also reduced significantly, although the culling of subsumed cattle, horses and sheep, and thus the average number of animals suitable for ploughing owned by each household, was definitely less. But not only did livestock culling result in a massive lack of draught power, it also deprived the common patron–client relationships of their material basis, namely cattle. Thus, the effects of culling were critical for both wealthy households and poorer ones, who depended on the former’s oxen for ploughing. Consequently, the impact of culling soon became visible in cultivation.759 For instance, in Sediba location, the proportion of households that had a field and owned livestock declined from 86 per cent in 1948 to 61 per cent in 1956. At the same time, the proportion of families that owned livestock but cultivated no land rose from 4.9 per cent to 18 per cent, and that of households with access to neither animals nor land increased from 1.9 per cent to 14.9 per cent.760 In the mid-1950s, the landscape of the Thaba Nchu District was still shaped considerably by conservation measures and settlement schemes. The long-­term changes in land-­use patterns resulting from Betterment can be visualised by looking at aerial photographs provided by the South African mapping organisation National Geo-­Spatial Information. From the 1950s onwards, flights were made over the Thaba Nchu area or parts of it. I showed two photographs of this series above, presenting the Botshabelo area. Eleven photograph series at varying scales are available for the region. The photographs I present can only provide a short overview of land-­use patterns and landscape changes. It is not comparable to the work of Christiane Naumann for the Sediba Reserve, or that of Nancy Jacobs for the Kuruman district: there are no comparable photographs from the ground. Due 7 59 Naumann, Stability and Transformation, 49. 760 Senior Agricultural Officer, Thaba Nchu, to the Chief Native Commissioner Western Areas, Potchefstroom, 25. 10. 1948, NASA , SAB NTS 7526 717/327 part 2. Ad-­hoc Verslag Sediba Besproeiingskema, Thaba Nchu, 28. 2. 1956, 3, NASA , SAB , BAO 5761 H 128/1666/197 part 1.

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to this fact, I simply present the photos to demonstrate the visible settlements and cultivation areas to avoid misinterpretations. The following figure shows an aerial photograph, dated 1956, of the northern and western parts of the district, along the railway line of Thaba Nchu. Clearly visible in the northern and western areas are numerous small fields under cultivation at this time, as well as the semi-­urban and rural settlements in the southern and western parts of the photographed area. Figure 4.6: Thaba Nchu 1956

Source: Aerial photograph, 37801708749, job 378, August 1956, provided by National Geo-­Spatial Information (NGI).

Livestock culling and work to combat soil erosion were only the beginning of official rehabilitation efforts in the Sediba area. In the 1950s, investigations as well as conservation measures were enforced. In an irrigation report of the ad

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hoc committee from 1956, the soil fertility of the Sediba Reserve was appraised as ‘laat veel te wense’, that is, it ‘leaves much to be desired’. The report was made due to a heavy drought in the previous months. Samples of soil from the Sediba Reserve were analysed, with 15 soil samples taken from 5 places of the irrigation scheme at a depth of 1, 2 and 3 feet. The results correspond to those of the RCR group from 2011, with a low concentration of nitrogen (N), especially on the soil surface. The concentration of magnesium (Mg) was relatively high in most of the deeper samples. Nevertheless, the RCR researchers considered the soils to have been overexploited, with little use of fertilisers for soils poor in organic material.761 In 1958, the planning report described above was completed for the Reserve and its adjoining SANT farms. Especially interesting in this section are the descriptions of the condition of the natural resources. While the soils in the irrigation scheme were apparently poorly managed, the dryland fields were in good condition. The soil fertility was reported as relatively high and no erosion was observed. Moreover, the condition of the grazing lands was good: in all communities except for one (Rooibult), no signs of trampling were visible. The grass species mainly included Themeda triandra, Eragrostis spp. and finger grasses in the mountains and higher areas, while in the plains Cymbopogon spp. was found in small amounts. The description of the natural resources and the species composition is rather sketchy. However, the report generally supports the conclusion that the condition of the grazing land and dryland fields was in fact fairly good.762 Hence, the recommendation for a complete re-­planning of the arable, grazing, and residential land of the Sediba Reserve was more probably the result of political motives than ecological concerns. The allocation of the economic units required, as described above, new planning of the necessary proportions of arable and grazing land.763 The dryland fields of the Reserve, together comprising 5,486 morgen, had to be diminished to 4,467 morgen to make sufficient rangeland available. Thus, the area used for dryland cultivation was reduced by almost a fifth of its previous size. For the new irrigation scheme, a crop rotation system was designed that envisaged the division of each 1.5-morgen irrigated plot into fourteen beds, as well as a complex crop rotation schedule over a period of 14 years per plot. These measures influenced the ecological system as well as social life. Regarding livestock production, the committee suggested some critical changes. No oxen or small livestock were to be 761 Correspondence between Hoofnaturellenkomissaris, Potchefstroom and the Hoofnaturellenkommissaris, Westelike Gebiede, N 47(2), 36/2. Ad-­hoc verslag Seliba Besproeiingskema: Thaba Nchu, 28. 2. 1956, NASA , SAB , BAO 5761 H128/1666/197 part 1. 762 Herwinningsverslag Sediba Gebied, Thaba Nchu, 22. 5. 1958, NASA , SAB , BAO 5761 H128/​ 1666/197 part 1. 763 Naumann, Stability and Transformation, 51.

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allowed; instead, one ‘economic unit’ of the irrigation farmers was to encompass two dairy cows. For ploughing, people were expected to use tractors provided by the traditional authority in Thaba Nchu or by the government, although in the latter case the farmers were to pay the respective charges.764 The processes of eviction, forced resettlement, and displaced urbanisation described above also shaped the landscape in the Thaba Nchu District. On the photograph below, dated 1968, one can see the decrease of agricultural zones and the existence of semi-­urban areas south of the railway station of Selosesha. Figure 4.7: Thaba Nchu 1968

Source: Aerial photograph, 612_004_00197, job 612 strip 004, 27. 9. 1968, provided by National Geo-­Spatial Information (NGI).

764 Herwinningsverslag Sediba Gebied, Thaba Nchu, 22. 5. 1958, 13, NASA , SAB , BAO 5761 H128/1666/197 part 1.

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4.4.3 Subsidisation of Agriculture in Bophuthatswana

The new state promoted policies that aimed to increase agricultural production and promote self-­sufficiency in food production. The strategies described above were pursued not only by the state’s Department of Agriculture but also by Agricor, which was established in 1978.765 Agricor introduced the development concept of temisano. Two temisano projects were situated in Thaba Nchu in 1986: one project for grain, the other for wool, respectively at the southern edge of the district and at a service centre in Thaba Nchu town. Agricor also initiated projects in the communal villages throughout the whole district. For instance, in Sediba, about twenty persons formed a group called setlamo, which cultivated land co-­operatively, albeit not for subsistence production. With monthly monetary contributions from each member, the group paid for a tractor provided by Agricor. In addition, the setlamo took out loans from the Bophuthatswana Agribank to buy diesel, seeds, and fertiliser, as well as for renting further machinery such as combine harvesters. At the season’s end, when the harvest was sold to a co-­operative in town, all costs were deducted from the revenues. At best, the result was a ‘zero total’ invoice, and in fact, the members of the setlamo ‘never received money’ after the harvest. When the group discontinued cultivation in the early 1990s, they still had to pay debts of several thousand Rands.766 In addition to the setlamo, farmers ploughed their fields individually; however, oral accounts suggest that cultivation could be afforded by only a few of the wealthier families. In fact, in the 1980s many people had already abandoned their arable land, since they did not have the money to meet the high costs associated with cultivation. Access to tractors was particularly expensive but had become necessary. Since livestock numbers had been reduced massively in the years of Betterment, the use of cattle for ploughing was no longer common. Agricor also maintained the infrastructure of the communal grazing lands, such as boreholes and fences, and employed local rangers, a position already established in pre-­ Bophuthatswana times. The rangers, each usually responsible for several villages, monitored and maintained the infrastructure, and also enforced the rotational grazing management. A stocking rate of six hectares per large livestock unit was recommended for the Thaba Nchu District. Surplus livestock was not culled as it had been earlier;

765 J. H. Drummond, “Rural Land Use and Agricultural Production in Dinokana Village, Bop­ huthatswana”. GeoJournal 22 (3) (1990), 209 – 244: 335 – 43. 766 Naumann, Stability and Transformation, 53.

Environmental History  |

instead, owners of excess livestock had to pay a levy.767 However, the costs connected with communal grazing were so low that over-­grazing became a serious problem in the communal areas of Thaba Nchu. In 1987, the Bophuthatswana Department of Economic Affairs and the Public Service Commission completed a regional development plan for the Thaba Nchu District. The report paints a rather depressing picture of the condition of the natural resources. Erosion processes, in particular gulley erosion, increased during the 1980s. Moreover, the arable fields, many of them abandoned by the time the report was completed, were turned into grazing land, but were in a very poor condition, with pioneer annuals as the main grass species.768 The control of livestock husbandry at the local level, particularly rotational grazing management, was enforced by so-­called rangers. Thaba Nchu rangers were initially accountable to the Department of Agriculture, and later – in Bop­ huthatswana – to Agricor. Each ranger was responsible for several villages whose rangelands he patrolled regularly. On these patrols rangers controlled the infrastructure, such as fencing, wind pumps, and watering points, and impounded livestock that were wrongfully grazing in camps that had been closed for a resting period. Confiscated livestock was brought to the governmental farm Boston Skiet or a fenced-­off area close to Thaba Nchu town. When cattle owners wanted their animals back, they had to pay a fee of about R2.50 per head. It was particularly the rangers’ power to control livestock movements and confiscate animals that led to Thaba Nchu farmers’ dislike of them.769 Members of the research group A1 blame the loss of the rangers and veld guardians in the post-­Apartheid era as one factor behind the collapse and decoupling of the SES in the Thaba Nchu communal areas.770 However, in the studies on the history of Thaba Nchu by Colin Murray, the work of Christiane Naumann, and in this chapter, it is clear that ecological change as well as social and economic change took place much earlier. I agree with Naumann that the social-­ecological system was increasingly stressed by political regulation efforts and changed fundamentally by Betterment policies. De Wet argues that the resettlement of the rural population into centralised villages increased the human and grazing pressure in these areas and thus even led to a further deterioration of the natural resources.771 Aerial photography from 1975 shows how Betterment 767 Colin Murray, “Land Reform in the Eastern Free State: Policy Dilemmas and Political Conflicts”. Journal of Peasant Studies 23, 2/3 (1996), 209 – 244: 237. 768 Naumann, Stability and Transformation, 53. 769 Naumann, Where We Used to Plough, 186. 770 Kotzé et al., Rangeland Management Impacts, 227. 771 De Wet, Moving Together, Drifting Apart, 339.

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measures and Trust policy shaped the environment and changed the landscape. One can see clearly the decreasing agricultural areas when comparing these images to those from the 1950s and 1968. East of Thaba Nchu town there are three typical grid-­patterned Trust villages. Figure 4.8: Thaba Nchu 1975

Source: Aerial photograph 749_010_04983, job 749 strip 010, 26. 3. 1975, provided by National Geo-­Spatial Information (NGI).

Conclusion  |

4.5 Conclusion The history of the Thaba Nchu District is an interesting case study of spatial planning, ethnic categorisation, and environmental power as key measures to maintain white supremacy as well as class hierarchies. The district’s history through the 20th century is a history of interventions into human-­environment relations in both rural and urban Thaba Nchu. Control – over people and resources – was the motivation for intervention, although the conditions that made it possible were special. As in other South African provinces, spatial planning and ethnic categorisation were deeply interconnected. One most keep in mind that spatial organisation is not a racialized measure in and of itself. It is necessary to organise societies in general. However, in South Africa, it was used to implement and maintain a coercive racialized society that secured all economic advantages and political power for a white minority. The interconnection to measures of ethnic categorisation is a distinctive mark of South African Apartheid society. The case of Thaba Nchu is special because it shows how ideology was bound to economic conditions and class hierarchies. This is clearly visible in the division of land and the implementation of ecological measures. Coercive measures such as the culling of livestock were not enacted on the farms owned by Barolong, let alone land owned by white farmers. Moreover, without the co-­operation of the Barolong elite, Betterment would have been less ‘successful’ in Thaba Nchu. The ‘ethnic tensions’ between the South Sotho and the Barolong and the later Tswana government guaranteed the supremacy of the South African central government. It has been shown that the motivation for conservationist intervention was not so much based on ecological concerns as on a political master plan aiming at racial segregation and the creation of a labour reserve. Regarding political motivation, Thaba Nchu was a typical case of Betterment; however, Thaba Nchu was special regarding the point in time of intervention, as it was one of the few districts identified in the early 1930s as soil erosion hotspots. Moreover, Thaba Nchu was also one of the districts where extensive livestock culls had been enforced shortly after the implementation of Betterment. After implementing measures for soil conservation and livestock improvement, the second phase of Betterment focused on the stabilisation of rural areas. Settlements were surveyed and mapped, inventories were made, land sub-­divided into standardised areas, and households ultimately ordered in blueprint, grid-­patterned villages. This standardisation was necessary to make rural populations controllable. The interplay of spatial and environmental measures combined with forced ethnic tensions and culminated in flight, eviction, and so-­called displaced urbanisation. According to Murray, a slum of illegal squatters in the 1970s became a

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‘cauldron of inter-­ethnic tensions’.772 In contrast, the Kromdraai settlement and later the township of Botshabelo are the result of the efforts to control the African society in the Thaba Nchu District. I even suggest expanding the term ‘displaced urbanisation’. It has been explained above that there was a difference between Development-­Induced Displacement and Development-­Induced Displacement and Resettlement (DIDR ). The authorities planned the construction of Botshabelo at almost every stage. Due to this fact, I suggest the term ‘displaced and resettled urbanisation’. Nevertheless, the aimed at ‘orderly urbanisation’ resulted again in a random system of forced resettlement and ejection in a DID context.

772 Murray, Black Mountain, 209.

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5. Conclusion

Throughout this volume, I have described the measures that maintained the racially ordered society of 20th-­century South Africa in addition to political pressure and state control. The analysis has included various topics. Describing the segregation era at the beginning, I summarised that environmentalism and spatial planning were key elements in implementing the racially ordered society. The basis of further spatial engineering that characterised Grand Apartheid was rural European settlement that had been of major political significance in the colonial and early post-­colonial time. The unequal division of land resources between black and white, with the main portions of land opened for European land use, was a major political issue in South Africa as well as the whole sub-­continent.773 In the early 20th century, the European conquest of land was more or less completed. Officially, there was no longer a frontier but rather a border, with the latter denoting a fixed, rigid, and clear-­cut form of state boundary.774 However, an important means for gaining political and legal control over the black majority of the country was to legalize spatial segregation and seize land that was still occupied by the Native population. In the clearly-­defined state, there remained a land frontier that was tied to the efforts to save all economic and spatial advantages for a white minority. The segregation era and, even more, the Apartheid system can be seen as the attempt to change this frontier into a border. I will discuss this hypothesis in the next section of my conclusion. The political translation of colonial politics into the ‘modern’ system of racial segregation that was later called Apartheid took place during the segregation years between 1910 and 1948. This process was implemented in different ways. The direct approach was the territorial and political disfranchisement of the African population by legislation and administration, especially the two Land Acts. A more complex point to maintain control and power was to use conservation policies to implement a segregated society. Environmental changes and the emergence of ecology as a scientific discipline with imperial impacts encouraged the efforts of the government to displace Africans. The two segregation elements legislation and conservation policies were linked in the settlement and village planning of 773 Christopher, Land Disposal Policies, 381. 774 Andrea Mura, “National Finitude and the Paranoid Style of the One”. Contemporary Political Theory 15 (1) (2016), 58 – 79: 58.

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the so-­called Native Reserves. I have suggested that the promotion of white land and segregation policies as being compatible with conservation needed a strong ideology as well as a hegemonic political narrative. The major push for development was forced in the 1950s with the report of the Tomlinson Commission as a benchmark and ended in the 1970s with a background of a developing capitalism and the subsequent depression. Analysing the Apartheid system, one question attracted my attention, namely how a society built upon almost impossible prerequisites could exist for over 40 years. Looking the relationships of power, practices of ejection and forced resettlement as well as micro-­practices, the Apartheid system appears to be a direct translation of a former settler colony into a technocratic, capitalistic state apparatus. Practices of appropriating African land and of dispossessing the African majority were formalized by legislation and more or less systematized with the help of an overflowing bureaucratic system. In 1957, Leo Marquard coined the expression internal colonialism to describe the emerging South African society being built on the applied principles of a frontier society.775 A closer analysis of 20th century South Africa proves this thesis. Moreover, spatial engineering in the Apartheid era was also similar to a colonial frontier. I have worked out the strong hegemony and narrative of the Apartheid hegemonial system in chapter 2. The skilful distortion of facts in seemingly scientific contexts was one of the most important measures to keep up the ideological hegemony. The self-­made population shift connected with uncertain territorial planning and documentation gave the impression that a white society really existed. I suggested a pattern of three levels concerning how the racially ordered society was upheld. First, there is a political and economic level. To oppress the majority of a population, an authoritarian state with a strong repressive apparatus is needed. It is also important to keep in mind that the fight for hegemony and power has an economic basis. The superiority of the land secured of white South Africans, as well as the means of production for the European minority although a political system of segregated development was not always economically efficient. I worked out two meta-­levels that saved the white hegemony in the racially ordered society in South Africa, namely spatial planning and ethnic categorisation. Spatial engineering based on the principle of divide and conquer was one decisive measure used to secure access to land for the white population. South Africa’s artificial land distribution, including the founding of non-­viable states in non-­contiguous, scattered areas with a population that either did not exist 775 Marquard, South Africa’s Colonial Policy, 1, 8, 9.

Spatial Engineering  |

or did not live in these areas, was also strengthened by the second meta-­level, namely ethnic categorisation. The creation of various population groups not always existing in reality had a number of functions. The artificial independent states needed a defined population. Another important factor was that the enforcement created ethnic conflicts in favour of the white South African government. Last, the pseudo-­scientific discourse on African groups concealed the clear racism of the Apartheid regime and created a new population distribution with a partial white majority. A third component was important for maintaining the hegemony of the Apartheid ideology, namely environmental power. Three aspects should be explained in this context: ecological engineering, environmentalism, and environmental history. Human impact always influences the environment, and conversely, the environment also influences society and economic and social activities, including ecological engineering. In the case of South Africa, conservation was strong part of colonial power and Apartheid governance. It is unsurprising that the Apartheid government tried to divide environmentalism according to racial categories, since almost every aspect of social and public life was racially segregated. In the course of defining elements to stabilise the racialised society, conservation, environmental policies, and ecological engineering became important features. The fear of soil erosion – an international fear during the first half of the 20th century – was used to justify unequal land distribution and gain stronger control over African agriculture by means of ecological engineering. Betterment and conservation measures were ecological engineering at a small-­scale level. Of course, Betterment did not prevent ecological collapse. It is even conceivable that the programme did not ultimately aim towards ecological stability but to gain control over African agriculture and especially African livestock in order to control the population. In terms of SES theory, environmentalism and ecological engineering were decisive factors for maintaining the resilience of Apartheid society. In the following sub-­sections, I will deal with the three meta-­levels maintaining hegemony in the Apartheid system using diverse spatial theories as well as the SES theory.

5.1 Spatial Engineering In contradiction to ethnic categorisation, spatial planning has no racialized component in and of itself. It is necessary to organise society, that is, to organise social-­ecological systems. Over the last decades, space and spatial analysis have been considered an essential element in developing theoretical knowledge as well

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as empirical investigations in a range of disciplines in the social sciences. Human-­ made environments and their social basis as well as their interactions are subject to critical and detailed analysis. It has become clear throughout this study that space is shaped by human relations, and human relations are shaped by space. The land question in South Africa is thus a material one. The unequal distribution of land securing economic advantages for the white minority, and a cheap African labour reservoir in the capitalising South African society were the basis of all theoretical approaches to the question of spatial engineering. This brings me to the question of the definition of spatial engineering. Ståle Holgerson from the University of Lund has examined certain aspects of spatial planning by the state in connection with the European economic crisis of 2007. Some of these aspects are interesting for my questions, although they are not directly comparable to the situation in South Africa. Holgerson focuses more on the planning aspect than on spatial theory. He defines spatial planning as the ‘the complex processes of regulating land use that (often) ends with a decision as to where (not) to place what.’ Land-­use regulations differ in space and time. As land-­use regulation is ultimately a function of the state, it is important to take a look at state theory. It is impossible to understand spatial planning outside its relation to the state. Reflecting upon state theory, research on planning is necessary due to both legal and organisational relationships.776 The Greek Marxist and political state theorist Nicos Poulantzas has claimed that the state should not be conceptualised as a thing or a subject, but rather a condensation of social relations.777 The field of planning has been troubled by the fact that it is both an academic discipline and an actual profession/activity. Since planning is a field of study that potentially concerns views about space, the state, economy, etc., it should come as no surprise that there are huge variations between its canons. Some variations derive from different theoretical and political positions, others from working at different levels of abstraction. Planning is also valued very differently. For instance, the work of Patsy Healey and that of Henri Lefebvre offer remarkably different positions on the role of planning in the 20th and 21st centuries. In 2010, Healey perceived the ‘planning project’ – developed in 20th century Europe – as the ‘project of improving place qualities [that] moved from the advocacy and exper-

776 Ståle Holgersen, “Spatial Planning as Condensation of Social Relations: A Dialectical Approach”. Planning Theory 14 (1) (2015), 5 – 22: 6. 777 Nicos Poulantzas, “Politische Macht und gesellschaftliche Klassen“. (Frankfurt/Main: Athenäum Fischer Taschenbuch, 1975), 74.

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imental of activists into a significant activity of formal government.’778 Lefebvre claimed in 1967 that ‘urban planning’ is the worst enemy of urban spaces, declaring it as ‘capitalism’s and the state’s strategic instrument for the manipulation of fragmented urban reality and the production of controlled space.’ There are also differences between discourses in planning theory and many major discourses in urban studies and human geography. Regarding the question of planning in Apartheid South Africa, the technocratic planning of space and inhabitants based on racial categories is an example of Lefebvre’s interpretation of planning. One must keep in mind that activities of planning and especially urban development have changed since the 20th century. According to Holgerson, planning – similar to the state in general – is often discussed as either a thing or a subject. For example, as a thing, planning is seen as being ‘used’ by a political party or ideology. As a subject, planning can be regarded as a freestanding power unit in society. However, this distinction should be transcended, since planning should not be conceptualised as a subject or a thing. Planning should be conceptualised as the condensation of social relations while acknowledging the specific form of planning organisation and function of land-­use regulation. In consequence, as social relations in contemporary societies are constituted by conflict (like racism, patriarchy, and capital dominated labour and environment), so is planning.779 After considering the role of planning, I return to the term of space. Again, Henri Lefebvre was a key figure in the development of contemporary interest and concern with space. With his work ‘The Production of Space’, he finally showed that space is political. Lefebvre’s theory understands the production of space as emphasising the need to consider space as both a product and a process of social relations and actions. Space is seen as a product of ideological, economic, and political forces.780 Based upon Marxist theory, Lefebvre’s thesis is that space must be considered alongside ‘nature (first of all), […], then labour, hence the organization (or division) of labour, and hence, also the instruments of labour […] and ultimately, knowledge.’781 I have shown the familiar network of factors that built up South Africa’s society in the 20th century. It is even comparable to the SES theory and its complex of human-­environmental interrelations forming a living space. Taking a look at South Africa’s spatial division, a division that still 778 Patsy Healey, “Making Better Places: The Planning Project in the Twenty-­First Century”. (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), 9, 10. 779 Holgerson, Spatial Planning, 11, 12, 15. 780 Andrezej Zielienec, “Space and Social Theory”. (Los Angeles, London, New Delhi, Singapore: Sage Publications, 2007), 60, 61. 781 Henri Lefebvre, “The Production of Space”. (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 1991), 69.

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today has not been overcome, there is the bitter awareness that space was the product of social and political action of the Apartheid planners as well as the interrelationships of a racialized society. Lefebvre’s insistence on the interplay of different elements in the production of space, including social relations, activities, and movement, helps to understand the consolidation process of state and land during Grand Apartheid. His three necessary elements of spatial practices, representations of space, and spaces of representations might help to understand the continuing frontier situation in 20th century South Africa. The main problem of Apartheid society was that there was a huge inconsistency between these three elements. The so-­called representation of l’éspace – which Lefebvre saw as the ‘conceptualised space’ of the ‘scientists, planners … and social engineers’782 and was the dominant space of any society – had no basis in reality and was built upon impossible prerequisites. In other words, there was nothing left for spatial practices referring to physical and material flows and representational space, the space of everyday life, which are the two other necessary elements in the production of space. Or, more exactly, spatial practices and everyday life were directly influenced by segregation practices. The planning of the Homelands, as well as the planning of Botshabelo at the local level, could serve as a practical example for planning representing a profession in which ideologies are acted out in representations of space, in addition to its being an organised and institutionalised discipline.783 From the mid-1960s, Lefebvre’s concerns were almost exclusively focused on urban questions, although his wider work on rural areas takes into account cultural and material dimensions.784 As Lefebvre reminds an attentive reader, the specificity of the capitalist mode of production of space is revealed through a focus on ‘the land-­labour capital relation, the constitutive trinity of capitalist society’, This, of course, echoes Marx’s own analysis of the ‘trinity formula’ in Chapter 48 of the third volume of his Capital, whereby Marx makes the relation explicit: ‘capital – interest, land – ground-­rent, labour – wages’.785 This relation does not work in the case of South Africa. Perhaps this trinity might be applied in the development of mega-­cities like Pretoria or Cape Town, but the planning and development of rural cities and the process of displaced urbanisation worked in a different way. 7 82 Lefebvre, Production of Space, 38, 39. 783 Zielieniec, Space and Social Theory, 81, 83. 784 Elden Stuart, Adam David Morton, “Thinking Past Henri Lefebvre: Introducing ‘The Theory of Ground Rent and Rural Sociology’”. Antipode 48 (1) (2016) 57 – 66: 57, 58. 785 Karl Marx, “Kapital, Band 3”. (Berlin: Dietz, 1974, 1st ed. edited by Friedrich Engels 1894), 822.

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The city in this context was a container for so-­called surplus people who could not survive in a semi-­capitalised agricultural business. Lefebvre’s hypothesis of contradictory space comes near the problem: ‘Marx’s initial intention in Capital was to analyse and lay bare the capitalist mode of production and bourgeois society in terms of a binary (and dialectical) model that opposed capital to labour … but it presupposes the disappearance from the picture of a third cluster of factors: namely the land, the landowning class, ground rent and agriculture as such.’786 Earlier, in ‘Some aspects of the Southern Question’, Antonio Gramsci also examines the territorial, class, and spatial relations of social development, encompassing complex relations of class stratification, racial domination, the question of intellectuals, and the social function that they perform in conditions of class struggle, as well as how best to mobilise subaltern classes against capitalism and the bourgeois state to break the ruling power bloc.787 This is the point of the meaning of space and planning combined with a generally uneven development in post-­colonial states and a remaining frontier. Uneven development can be seen in South Africa still today. Twenty-­two years after the end of Apartheid, many segregation barriers – and the inequalities they engender – still exist. Communities of extreme wealth and privilege often exist just meters from squalid conditions and shack dwellings. Johnny Miller has recently started a project portraying the most unequal scenes in South Africa as objectively as possible by means of aerial photography. I present two of his photos: Nomzamo/Lwandle is a township bordered by the communities of Strand and Somerset West, about 40km east of Cape Town. Originally it was conceived as an area to house ‘single male workers’ during the Apartheid years, in a type of accommodation known as ‘hostels’. In the intervening years, the township grew. According to the population census of 2011, over 60,000 people live in the suburb. There is a clear land buffer (supplemented with fencing) separating the wealthier housing of Strand from Nomzamo/Lwandle.788

7 86 Lefebvre, Production of Space, 323, 324. 787 Stuart, Morton, Thinking Past, 62. Antonio Gramsci, “The Southern Question”. (Toronto: Guernica Editions, 2005) 32, 33, 37. 788 http://unequalscenes.com/strandnomzamo, 1. 7. 2016.

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Figure 5.1: Strand, Western Cape

Figure 5.1.2: Strand, Western Cape

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Map 5.1: Strand

The photos were taken by Johnny Miller in May 2016. See: http://unequalscenes.com/strandnomzamo, accessed 1. 7. 2016. I visited Strand myself in February 2011.The map is based on google maps. Additional geographical information has been taken from the GPS data of a tour I made on 20 February 2011. I marked the fenced zone separating the wealthier housing of Strand from Nomzamo. This buffer zone also serves as a temporary settlement for displaced people.

However, when looking at the significance of ethnic categorisation and racism in spatial planning in South Africa, space becomes another dimension. Remembering the ethno-­national blocs worked out in the 1950s, which were not based primarily upon territorial planning but often on artificial ethnic categorisation, space gains a form and meaning that cannot be explained with uneven development. In order to explain the gap between the prevalent discourse and the contradicting, complex reality in South Africa’s Bantustans, I would like to introduce Michel Foucault’s concept of heterotopias. Freerk Boedeltje from the University of Eastern Finland has used the concept to deal with European geopolitics, Norbert Finzsch used the concepts of Foucault and Edward Soja to interpret nomadic space in Australia and the Harlem Renaissance in New York City.789 789 Freerk Boedeltje, “The Other Spaces of Europe: Seeing European Geopolitics Through the Disturbing Eye of Foucault’s Heterotopias”. Geopolitics 17 (2012), 1 – 24: 1, 2. Norbert Finzsch, “Der glatte Raum der Nomaden: Indigene Outopia, indigene Heterotopia am Beispiel Australiens”. Claudia Bruns (ed.), “‘Rasse’ und Raum: Dynamiken, Formationen und Transformierungen anthropologischen ‘Wissens’ im Raum”. (Trier: Reichert Verlag, 2016), 123 – 144: 124, 126. See also: Norbert Finzsch, “The Harlem Renaissance, 1919 – 1935: American Modernism, Multiple Modernities or Postcolonial Diaspora”. Thomas Welskopp, Alan

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Foucault uses the idea of a mirror as a metaphor for the contradictions, the reality, and the unreality of utopian projects. The term mirror is used as a metaphor for utopia because the image that is seen does not exist, although it is also a heterotopia because the mirror is a real object that shapes the way one relates to one’s own image. Foucault elaborates on utopian and heterotopian spaces. Utopias are defined as ‘sites with no real place. They present society itself in a perfected form, or else society turned upside down, but in any case, these utopias are fundamentally unreal spaces’. Heterotopias are a complex phenomenon. They respond to the heterogeneous character of external space and the connection of elements of utopia to real places. Heterotopias are what Foucault characterises as counter-­ sites that simultaneously represent, contest, and invert all other places within society by acting as a mirror to society. This mirror reveals the relation between the external relational world, celestial space, and infinite open space. Heterotopias are contradictory and disturbing spaces and for this reason conflicting to utopias since they do not represent an ideal utopian picture, but rather the ambiguity of the situation in a way that they contest the homogenous space.790 Looking at the photos above, the contradiction of Strand and Nomzamo might serve as a kind of mirror reflecting the contradictions in South African society. Foucault describes several types of heterotypic space. The planning and establishment of Botshabelo might be classified as a ‘crisis heterotopia’. This is a separate space that has been designed to host those who are, in relation to society, in a state of crisis. Such situations generally take place out of sight of society.791 With regard to individual heterotopias in Apartheid South Africa, a question remains regarding the political complex of the Homelands. According to Foucault, there are three dimensions – homogenous space, utopia, and heterotopias. In the case of post-­colonial South Africa, the material spatial interests were clear: a white power-­keeping minority aimed at maintaining economic and political superiority, this mainly expressed in questions of land. The elaboration of the concept of segregated development, of a complete segregation of races based on impossible territorial prerequisites, may have served as a utopia for the white minority. For the majority of the population, it was a concrete disaster. Again, I must stress that an ideological and discursive hegemony was needed to sustain the Apartheid society. Returning to the South African population statistics and the corresponding map of racial concentration, we have another mirror that reflects Lessoff (eds.), “Fractured Modernity: America Confronts Modern Times, 1890s to 1940s”. (München: Oldenbourg Verlag, 2012), 193 – 212. 790 Michel Foucault, “Of Other Spaces”. Diacritics 16 (1) (1986), 22 – 27: 24, 26. 791 Foucault, Other Spaces, 25.

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the population structure of the country in distorted way.792 The doubt remains whether pseudo-­scientific work served to keep up a white utopia or a coercive SES . As a third dimension, there are the complex contradictory heterotopias. Above, individual heterotopias have been worked out, although generally the summary of the contradictions between white utopia and real spatial facts (including social and political conditions) seems to be more like an imagined coercive heterotopia. This distortion is the main problem in this study. The construct of the Bantustans is a coercive SES as well as an imagined heterotopia. Edward Soja developed a theory of Thirdspace in which ‘everything comes together… subjectivity and objectivity, the abstract and the concrete, the real and the imagined, the knowable and the unimaginable, the repetitive and the differential, structure and agency, mind and body, consciousness and the unconscious, the disciplined and the transdisciplinary, everyday life and unending history’. He defines Thirdspace as an ‘other way of understanding and acting to change the spatiality of human life, a distinct mode of critical spatial awareness that is appropriate to the new scope and significance being brought about in the rebalanced trialectics of spatiality–historicality–sociality’. Soja constructs Thirdspace from Lefebvre’s spatial trialectics and Foucault’s concept of heterotopia. Thirdspace is a transcendent concept that is constantly expanding to include ‘an-­Other’, thus enabling the contestation and re-­negotiation of boundaries and cultural identity.793 First, this conception of Thirdspace might correspond to the fact of there being a remaining unclear frontier in South Africa and the construction of national blocs mainly based upon ethnic identity. In the case of the Thaba Nchu District, the indistinct Tswana identity seemed to play a main role on the surface. However, all of these unclear cultural characteristics were ultimately pressed on the African population by Apartheid planners and taken by African beneficiaries of the system like the Barolong elite. Finally, it was more a question of class stratification than African culture.

5.2 Environmental Power and Socio-­Ecological Systems Since they often neglect historical context, studies of social-­ecological systems have been criticised as ‘ahistorical’ by social scientists. Moreover, many studies are also ‘apolitical’, as they tend to ignore stratification within agrarian societies, the different motives and interests of actor groups, and ‘the crucial role of sovereign 792 See appendices. 793 Edward W. Soja, “Thirdspace”. (Malden, Mass.: Blackwell, 1996), 57.

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authorities’ in regulating human-­environment relationships. However, considering historically evolved power inequalities, competing interests of social actors, and competition for resource use and management is indispensable for explaining the recent configurations of a social-­ecological system. Another problem is defining a SES : throughout this study, I often changed between the macro and micro level. If the whole South African Apartheid state is regarded as being an SES , within the Bantustans or, at a local level, districts or villages the scales and variables change. It is also different if one is examining a city, a village or a rural area, especially regarding the processes of coupling and decoupling. In a framework of complex adaptive rangeland systems, Walker and Abel have visualised the interconnections of different scales, namely, national, regional and local scales, and how these scales constitute a nested hierarchy. One of the variables the authors consider they call ‘colonial history’. However, in their diagram, the system’s socio-­political history is only considered as important for understanding of processes on the national scale, not at the regional or local scale.794 I do not want to imply that these authors are ignorant of historical aspects. They clearly define colonialism as one factor influencing an SES and constituting a hierarchy. However, I have shown throughout this study that societies are influenced by the colonial and post-­colonial past at every level. I fully agree with Christiane Naumann that Walker and Abel’s framework for complex adaptive rangelands systems is symptomatic of approaches towards social-­ecological systems, since it implies that past policies, debates, and events hold secondary importance for the understanding of recent processes and conditions in such systems.795 Ann Kinzig – who has published extensively on social-­ecological systems and resilience – states in a recent contribution that case studies using a social-­ecological system approach should be concerned with the system’s embeddedness in dynamics at broader regional, national and global scales.796 This is not only an interesting approach when dealing with processes on a local level. In chapter 3 I mentioned a recent discussion about the local and regional combatting of environmental problems against an international approach regarding 794 Brian Walker, Nick Abel, “Resilient Rangelands: Adaptation in Complex Systems”. Lance H. Gunderson, C. S. Holling (eds.), “Panarchy: Understanding Transformations in Human and Natural Systems”. (Washington, DC : Island Press, 2002), 293 – 310: 304, 305. 795 Naumann, Where We Used to Plough, 276. 796 Ann P. Kinzig, “Towards a Deeper Understanding of the Social in Resilience: The Contributions of Cultural Landscapes”, Tobias Plieninger and Claudia Bieling (eds.), “Resilience and the Cultural Landscape: Understanding and Managing Change in Human-­Shaped Environments”. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 315 – 327: 317, 319, 319.

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the internationality of climate problems. I agree with Timm Hoffmann that it makes sense to combat environmental problems at a local level. In the case of South Africa, it is extremely important to act at a regional and local level, because land reform remains incomplete yet necessary. Nevertheless, embedding erosion and desertification in a broader international context offers possibilities of international co-­operation. The term resilience has emerged as a buzzword in several disciplines. Scholars investigating social-­ecological systems have defined resilience as the system’s capacity to cope with shocks as well as maintaining and developing major functions, structures and feedback by either recovering or reorganising. However, according to Kinzig, the question of whether an entire social-­ecological system is resilient cannot be answered easily; instead, the researcher has to define which structures and variables of the system hold interest to make conclusions about the degree of resilience, that is, whether a system is highly resilient or less so.797 I made clear in chapter 3 that I question the SES theory in many points. Nevertheless, I have used Kinzig’s suggested method to look at the resilience of the Apartheid system at various levels. As with the different sections of this volume, I have proceeded from the national to the local level. I have already mentioned that the Apartheid state showed a surprisingly high political and social resilience. Social resilience is defined as the ability of a household to cope with, adapt to, and transform in ways that secure future well-­being. ‘Coping capacities’ refer to the ability to deal with environmental or social threats and shocks to maintain well-­being in the short term. The term ‘adaptive capacity’ is the ability of social actors to learn from past experiences and transformations and adapt their strategies to prevent and cope with future threats and shocks. Thus, adaptive capacity is related to what is often called ‘buffering mechanisms’.798 Finally, actors have ‘transformative capacities’ when they are able to gain access to assistance from governmental and non-­governmental organisations, take part in decision-­making processes, and shape institutions that improve future well-­being. The Apartheid state is not a household, of course. However, the meta-­levels that I identified – spatial planning, ethnic categorisation, and environmental power – can be transferred to SES theory and defined as the coping capacities of the Apartheid state. At the national level, ethnic categorisation and spatial planning were the most important capacities for maintaining the political system. A problem in this context is the term well-­being. Apartheid did not aim at the well-­being of a large number of people living in the 797 Kinzig, Understanding Resilience, 316. 798 For example, Michael Bollig, “Risk Management in a Hazardous Environment: A Comparative Study of Two Pastoral Societies”. (New York: Springer, 2006).

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system, but only at the well-­being of the white minority. Well-­being in this context can be seen as white supremacy. In addition to the meta-­levels I have worked out, administration and an overloading bureaucracy were the transforming capacities used by the main actors of the Apartheid government to maintain political and social hegemony. At the regional and local levels, the priorities of the meta-­levels change. In the Thaba Nchu District, spatial planning was in important measure influencing processes in society, but ethnic categorisation and especially environmental power become much more important. Ethnic categorisation embedded in strict class stratification made cuts between the African populations that helped in the end to maintain the existing power structures in the Apartheid system. In the process of displaced urbanisation, it played a significant role for separating the Sotho people. Environmental power is one of the most important power-­keeping measures in rural, pastoral societies. However, my analysis has shown another aspect: if SES has a high resilience it does not have to be good. Apartheid was built upon an ideology that was condemned several times. Nevertheless, it showed stability and resilience for over four decades. At a local level in Thaba Nchu, Christiane Naumann has worked out a convincing concept of social resilience. In the past, Thaba Nchu households found several ways to buffer their vulnerability to environmental shocks. By maintaining the production of drought-­resistant grains, such as sorghum, households tried to prevent food crises in the first half of the 20th century. Livestock-­owning households that could afford it have diversified their herds by keeping cattle, sheep, horses and, more recently, goats. This herd-­diversification strategy enables farmers to cope better with animal diseases.799 Not only agricultural strategies but also livelihoods in general diversified during the 20th century. The Thaba Nchu case and South Africa as a whole differ in one aspect, namely, that the very nature of South African capitalism required the constant circulation of migrants. Minimum wages were paid to tie migrants to rural areas, where they could earn additional income from agriculture. On the other hand, the restriction of resource access and increasing population pressure ensured that households would not be able to produce self-­sufficiently. Therefore, livelihood diversification was not only a strategy pursued by rural households, but also a political aim of the South African government.800 The case of Thaba Nchu has illustrated that the Apartheid state systematically undermined the ‘transformative capacities’ of rural households and communities. 799 Naumann, Where We Used to Plough, 282. 800 Wolpe, Capitalism and Cheap Labour Power, 425.

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The access to and amount of governmental transfer payments was racially biased and the ability to participate in political bodies curtailed. The Barolong Tribal Authority established in place of the Reserve Boards (which were introduced by the colonial power, not by the Thaba Nchu people) restricted the small amount of participation that rural people had held during the segregation era. Chiefs were more responsible to the Department of Bantu Administration and Development than their people. Hence, since it was an administrative body situated far away, rural people perceived the Tribal Authority as an exclusive assembly that was only concerned with the issues of the Thaba Nchu elite. The political establishment of the Barolong was also restricted in its decision-­making power. However, the elite could pursue their own interests to a certain extent when they cooperated with government officials. Furthermore, the Barolong elite and other influential men (e. g. headmen and large landowners) could cope with and adapt to other threats, since they possessed comparatively large amounts of economic and social capital.801 Apartheid policies did not affect the social resilience of all Thaba Nchu people to the same degree. That is what I explained in the previous section. The apartheid system did not keep up the well-­being of a large number of people belonging to the SES . In contrast, the resilience of the political system often undermined the resilience at a regional and local level. The Betterment period constituted the most critical socio-­political event in the sense that it had a direct impact on the social resilience of communities and households. Resettlement was particularly damaging, as the displacement of people is often connected with a breakdown of social resilience. Here it becomes clear again that Betterment was both a measure of spatial planning and environmental power.802 The decline of social resilience during Betterment made all communities and households vulnerable to further threats. At the village level, increasing conflict and distrust caused tension and hindered co-­operation. At the household level, the forced culling of livestock negatively affected the social resilience of rural households, as small herd sizes made it difficult to buffer livestock losses and maintain cattle-­lending networks. The restriction of land size made households vulnerable to drought and poor harvests. Moreover, the restriction of access to resources in general made households more vulnerable to unemployment, since

801 Naumann, Where We Used to Plough, 283, 284. 802 Ibidem, 316.

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job losses could not be easily buffered by people who only used half ‘economic units’ or less.803 The interpretation of resilience at various levels strengthens what I stated in chapter 3. The SES theory is useful for interpreting isolated questions, especially at a local level. However, analysing social, political, economic and environmental processes requires a more far-­reaching political, historical, social and ethic appraisal.

803 Ibidem, 283, 284.

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—, “Betterment Area Nqutu – Stock Improvement Proc, 31 of 1939” (1946 – 1951), NTS 7568 880/327. —, “Betterment Areas under Proclamation No. 116 of 1949 Letaba District” (1959), NTS 7574 925/327. —, “Borehole S. A. N. T. Farm Seliba (Bull Camp) Thaba Nchu” (1943 – 1960), NTS 10967 T21082. —, “Bull Camps Keiskamahoek” (1949), NTS 7579 1072/327. —, “Cattle Sales Thaba Nchu 1944 – 60” NTS 7256 290/326. —, “Chieftainship Moroka Ward: Thaba Nchu” (1929 – 1953), NTS 308 13/54. —, “Crop and Vegetable Growing Competitions Hamanskraal” (1948), NTS 7575 944/327. —, “Dam at Springfontein 720” (1955), NTS 10483 D1016. —, “Erection of Dipping Tanks in Thaba ’Nchu” (1912 – 1913), LSK 22 S111/6 TN . —, “Experimental and Nursery Plots Peddie” (1955), NTS 7569 888/327. —, “Experimental Plots Ventersdorp” (1946 – 1950), NTS 7576 1006/327. —, “Farm Privileges Fort Cox Staff ” (1952 – 1955), NTS 7574 927/327. —, “Fencing Material for Thaba Nchu” (1939 – 1949), NTS 7516 678/327. —, “Improvement of Horses, Western Areas” (1939 – 1949), NTS 7443 444/27/4 —, “Improvement of Stock Thaba Nchu 1935 – 1941” (1935 – 1941), NTS 7526 717/327 part1. —, “Improvement of Stock Thaba Nchu 1950 – 1952” (1950 – 1952), NTS 7526 717/327 part 3. —, “Improvement of Stock Thaba Nchu 1952 – 1960” (1952 – 1960), NTS 7526 717/327 part 4. —, “Improvement of Stock Thaba Nchu – Proclamation No. 31 of 1939” (1942 – 1950), NTS 7526 717/327. —, “Information for Publicity Purposes Part III ” (1947), NTS 9698 733/400 (3). —, “Information for Publicity Purposes Part IV ” (1947 – 1949), NTS 9698 733/400 (4). —, “Information for Publicity Purposes Part V” (1948 – 1949), NTS 9698 733/400 (5). —, “Information for Publicity Purposes Part VI ” (1949 – 1951), NTS 9698 733/ 400 (6). —, “Information for Publicity Purposes Part VII ” (1951 – 1952), NTS 9698 733/400 (7). —, “Information for Publicity Purposes Part VIII ” (1952 – 1953), NTS 9701 133/400 (8). —, “Land and Agricultural Bank – Loan: Floating of Overseas”, TES 5935 35/184. —, “Land Bank – Obligations: Quarterly Returns of Long and Short Term Obligations”, TES 5935 35/183. —, “Land Bank – Regulations Other Than Those Relating to Appointment of Members of Boards and Staff ”, TES 5935 35/182. —, “Leasing a Portion of the Commonage Land of Thaba ’Nchu for Race Course” (1911), NTS 353 2950/1911/F1232. —, “Legislation Relating to Soil Conservation” (1950), GBR S. C.B 441. —, “Lenz Ammunition Factory” (1947), NTS 9739 857/400. —, “Liasion Officer Krugersdorp Monthly Report” (1954 – 1960), NTS 2336 1025/280(1). —, “Livestock Owned by Natives and Compulsory Reduction There of – Part II ” (1938 – 1939), NTS 7335 127/327 part 2.

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