4—
Administration and Politics

Modern politics in Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu, as in all of the homelands except possibly the Transkei, is in its infancy. The homelands as political communities have not yet exhibited the political dynamics of free societies; it is thus premature to stress the details of internal interaction. This is not to say that these polities are without the real stakes, concomitant rivalries, and the kinds of manipulation and brokerage of power that are seen in older states. It is too early for the lines of cleavage to have become distinct and for personal and local contention to have been translated into identifiable "national" conflicts reflecting divisions of ideology and interest. Consequently, as was often the case in African colonies in the immediate post-World War II period, the politics of the two homelands are dominated more by the personalities of a few individuals than by conflicting ideologies.

This condition is due both to the nature of contemporary homeland society and to the status of the homelands within the South African political system. The homelands possess a limited autonomy and remain almost as much subject to the government of South Africa as they did before being launched on the road to some kind of home rule. Evolving as they have out of territorial authorities—instruments of administrative, not political, decentralization by a domestic colonial power—they cannot yet be expected to display the politics of, say, a British self-governing colony immediately prior to independence. Their legislatures, biased in favor of traditional authorities, are only partially representative of their de jure populations. They, and all members of the homeland governments, play defined and restricted roles determined by the constraints imposed by the dominant Republic. At the present time, therefore, the politics of the homelands reflect both a preoccupation with the distribution of power between a homeland and the dominant Republic and a struggle for power between various factions within homeland society. These factions are based partly on personalities, partly on differing views as to the proper role of traditional leaders, and partly on the tactics to be used in confronting the sovereign power.

Client states with extremely limited autonomy, Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu are products of government policy rather than of successful nationalistic confrontation. Because their leaders did not achieve what power they have by gradual processes of accretion, they are unsure of the limits of their autonomy. What the South African government has dispensed it still controls, influences, and, given the inequality of power, could take away. It has transferred responsibility to the homelands only for a few clearly specified governmental functions. Initially all of the homelands began with the same six departments, Finance, Community Affairs (Interior in Bophuthatswana), Works, Education, Agriculture and Justice, but further areas have been transferred to them. Whatever the precise list of functions performed by homeland governments at any one time, they are carried out by cabinets of ministers, each with specific mandates and with responsibility to legislative assemblies, though the conventions of responsible government have still to be developed.

In their departments the ministers are assisted by white officials seconded to them by the Republic. Many of these officials are present throughout sittings of the assemblies and the executive councils. The sovereignty of homeland governments is therefore subject in law to limitations and in practice to severe inhibitions even on the exercise of those powers officially delegated to it. These limitations, moreover, are inherent in the structure of the homelands and result from the thrust of South African policy, past and present, rather than from the failure of African politicians to take advantage of available opportunities. The extent to which Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu can free themselves from such limitations, expand the bounds of their autonomy, and increase their available resources are the key questions of the immediate future, and together become one of the decisive factors on which the success or failure of the South African homeland experiment will be evaluated.

Homeland Administration

The manner in which the South African government has organized the administration of the homelands places great stress upon administrative capacity. For all the expressed desire to develop systems of government that embody the ethos of African society, little concession to the underdeveloped nature of the former reserves, or to traditionalism, is being made in the design of the new administrative departments. Their formal structure closely follows South African and, ultimately, British models. Even the same administrative titles are used. One consequence of this thoroughness is a limited change of personnel and style of decision making at higher levels; until there are many

more trained Africans, the homelands will remain dependent for administrative assistance upon the Republic. To some extent the shortage of Africans deemed suited for posts in the governments is caused by the high standards South African white administrators impose on recruits and their reluctance to let loose the reins of administration. It is arguable, though difficult to prove, that more Africans are capable of assuming responsibilities in the homeland governments than are currently permitted to do so. The expansion of indigenous responsibility for, and control over, routine administration is thus more a goal for the future than a present reality. White officials will for some time provide much of the muscle required to translate locally accepted legislation into administrative action.

The dependence of Bophuthatswana upon officials lent by the Republic is shown in the homeland estimates of expenditure for the fiscal year 1975/76. In the Department of the Chief Minister and Finance, which includes the Treasury, the ranking administrative positions in a list of 153 are all held by whites. Of the 22 most senior officials in this department, defining these as principal clerks and above, 10 are whites, nearly all at upper levels of the hierarchy. In the Department of the Interior there are 388 employees, but Africanization has taken place only at the lower levels of the hierarchy; of 23 senior officials, 16 are from the Republic. Virtually all the chief clerks, principal clerks, and senior welfare officers are on loan from the Republic. In the Department of Works the same pattern persists. The senior administrative officials and the technical branches are heavily dependent upon white personnel — all the engineers, surveyors, chief foremen, and principal foremen being white. (There are virtually no trained blacks in these fields.) In the Department of Education, a far greater degree of Africanization has been achieved, but the secretary, chief clerk, and principal clerk are white. The Department of Agriculture follows the pattern of the Department of Works, with the technical posts as well as the higher ranks of the Field Services and the Nature Conservation and Veterinary services being dominated by whites. In the Department of Justice, the senior magistrates, magistrates, and the higher ranks of the administrative section are filled almost entirely by whites. As of late 1974, however, there were 5 Tswana magistrates, and 13 legally qualified Tswana in government service. Twenty-eight had been awarded scholarships and 3 were studying law at a university.

KwaZulu's administration is similar. According to the personnel estimates for fiscal 1975/76, of 91 appointments in the Department of Authority Affairs and Finance in 1974, 70 were held by blacks, all at the level of senior clerk or below, except for the chief executive councillor, the urban representative, and the chairman and vice-chairman of the assembly. Of 704 appointments in the Department of Community Affairs, 657 were held by blacks, including the executive councillor. All of the senior officials were

white. Likewise, in the Department of Works, 982 of 1,075 employees were black, but whites held all of the senior administrative and technical positions. For example, of 110 works foremen, 58 were white, unchanged from the previous year. Of the 12 surveyors, 5 were white. In one technical division after another, the estimates show no change over the previous year. In the Department of Education and Culture, the 816 posts were filled predominantly by blacks (805 of the total), but the 6 senior officers of the 57 employed in the general administration of the department were white. The Department of Agriculture employed 3,266 officials, of whom 3,116 were black, but whites again dominated the professional levels. For example, of 29 agricultural officers, 23 were white, unchanged from the previous year. And in the Department of Justice the same pattern persisted: senior administrators, chief magistrates, principal magistrates, and senior magistrates were white; of 24 magistrates, 18 were white, unchanged from the previous year. Looking at Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu together, then, Africanization of the civil service has not yet been realized at the upper levels.^[1]

This examination of the most recent estimates can be reinforced by examining those for the fiscal years 1973/74 and 1974/75 as well: table 4.1 gives the overall numbers of officials employed by departments and the number of white officials in each.

During these three years there have been major administrative reorganizations with significant changes in the size of some departments. For instance, the Department of Education in Bophuthatswana expanded from 602 to 5,910 employees, a change due to the transfer in fiscal 1974/75 of 5,279 teachers, presumably from the payroll of the Department of Bantu Education. The Department of Agriculture in KwaZulu expanded from 2,037 to 3,266 employees, due to a shift of Veterinary Services (456) and "Other Staff" (753) in fiscal 1974/75. There also were some reductions. The Department of the Interior in Bophuthatswana expanded by 30 between fiscal 1973/74 and fiscal 1974/75, but then contracted to the former figure of 388 due to the establishment of a Department of Health and Social Welfare. Frequently the expansion of departments has been due entirely to the expansion of administration rather than of services, as in the case of the Department of Works and the Department of Justice in Bophuthatswana

[1] The three paragraphs above are based on Republic of South Africa, Bophuthatswana, Estimate of the Expenditure to be defrayed from the Revenue Fund of Bophuthatswana during the year ending 31 March 1976 ; Republic of South Africa, KwaZulu, Estimate of the Expenditure to be defrayed from the Revenue Fund of the KwaZulu Government during the year ending 31 March 1976. For information on Tswana in legal training see SAN 21 Nov., 1974. SAN ("South African Newspapers") is a summary of the press made within the South African Department of Information for departmental use.

in fiscal 1974/75. Only in the case of KwaZulu's Veterinary Services in fiscal 1974/75, which employed 65 additional stock inspectors and 407 additional dip tank assistants, does it seem that there was a clearly identifiable expansion of services. The overall impression is one of a great deal of reshuffling of functions between the Republic and the homelands, and between departments within a homeland, combined with the reaching of a plateau in the rate of Africanization. This is particularly noticeable in technical services, where the numbers of veterinarians, surveyors, doctors, engineers, and magistrates in the relevant departments are repeated year by year with virtually no change in the ratios of black to white staff, particularly at upper levels.

South Africa is reputed to contain a reservoir of trained indigenous manpower larger than that of any of the recently independent African countries to the north. Within the overall South African system, however, the distribution of this manpower has been and will continue to be unequal. The governments of the homelands find it difficult to compete economically with opportunities in commerce and industry in the Republic, frequently losing valuable civil servants and teachers. In order to attract Tswana and Zulu home, "to reverse," as the KwaZulu minister of education explained, "the present brain drain to commerce and industry and to countries outside our borders," higher, more realistic salaries are necessary.^[2] Moreover, the exercise of responsibility and administrative discretion may appear inhibited by the continued role of whites. In the homelands, as in South African life more generally, it remains virtually impossible to place Africans in positions of authority over whites. There have been exceptions, however. "History was made" in late 1973 when a Zulu was appointed acting principal magistrate for the Nqutu district in northern KwaZulu.^[3]

Both homelands have universities designated for them — the University of the North for Bophuthatswana and the University of Zululand for KwaZulu. However these are still small universities offering a limited range of subjects. They are unable to supply the demand for technical people — engineers, doctors, accountants, and management personnel. The total number of African students at universities of all kinds in 1974 was only 7,845 (compared to 95,589 white students), of whom roughly half were enrolled at the University of South Africa, which provides correspondence courses only. For all of South Africa there were 221 African students enrolled in medical school and 21 Africans qualified as physicians at the

[2] J. A. W. Nxumalo, speech on the budget, Republic of South Africa, KwaZulu, Verbatim Report of the First Session of the First KwaZulu Legislative Assembly (10 May 1974), 196 (hereafter cited as KwaZulu Debates ); also quoted in Natal Mercury, 13 May 1973.

[3] Natal Mercury, 10 Dec. 1973.

end of 1973. The University of Natal, which was responsible for the primary medical training of Africans, Asians, and coloureds, reported that a total of 188 Africans qualified from 1957 to 1973, an average of about 15 per year. The three universities in homelands — the University of the North, the University of Zululand, and the University of Fort Hare — together granted the following degrees in 1973: 32 postgraduate degrees (Ph.D.s, Masters and honors B.A.s); 263 bachelor degrees; and 70 postgraduate and 176 nongraduate diplomas. In 1957 there was a substantial increase in the upper categories: 54 postgraduate degrees; 354 bachelor degrees; but a decline in postgraduate diplomas (52); while nongraduate diplomas increased to 191.^[4] In the ten years before 1973, the University of Zululand produced only 25 science graduates, and has had about 32 Zulu students in legal training each year.

In addition to the imposition by the Republic of high standards for employees of homeland governments, the shortage of Africans suitable for professional positions in Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu is largely attributable to the educational policies of the Republic since 1953. Training programs are now hard pressed to provide candidates capable of meeting many of these levels of achievement. For example, the homelands are being provided with new and complex accounting procedures very similar to those adopted by South Africa itself (see ch. 7). These procedures depend heavily on the services of trained accountants and budget and program analysts, few of whom will in the near future be Africans. Naturally, too, the thorough manner in which the new administrations are being organized by South Africa greatly increases the demand for technically trained functionaries. Thus, although permanent positions in the homelands are limited to local citizens, and whites are to be replaced as soon as possible by blacks (the posts they occupy being officially described as "vacant"), it will be some time before the senior (and controlling) administrative and professional employees in Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu will be Africans.

In relation to personnel generally there seems to be an absence of adequate on-the-job training for blacks and only limited adoption of schedules or procedures for replacing white officials by blacks. This reluctance may be due in part to the unwillingness of officials to devolve power to persons whose ideas, methods, and goals differ from their own. In many situations, prolongation rather than urgency has been the guiding principle. A commentator has argued, not altogether facetiously, that the training period of blacks is exactly equal to the time that must elapse before white equivalents retire. Some white officials expect to be employed for a long time, pointing to the Transkei where whites continued in 1974 to fill about 5

[4] Survey of Race Relations, 1974, 369, and ibid., 1975, 260. For a further discussion of changes in medical education, see below, 120.

percent of the most significant slots in the administration.^[5] In KwaZulu, housing has been constructed especially for whites of all ranks close to Ulundi, the future capital.

Given an attempt to maintain administrative standards, the prospects are poor for a smooth transition to an administration with a significant proportion of blacks at every level of homeland administration. Even the supply of black high school graduates is inadequate. There are major inadequacies in the educational structure and there seems to be no overall manpower plan that relates Africanization of the civil service, or even of its lower echelons, to the probable output of the educational system. Moreover, concessions in the employment arena in the Republic only compound problems associated with Africanizing the administrative service of the homelands. Equally, even in those instances in which the attractions of homeland service will prove powerful to a generation of secondary school graduates hitherto denied such opportunity, the governments of the homelands will soon need to compete for recruits with their own growth areas and border industries.

Discipline is another problem. KwaZulu has itself drawn attention to one aspect of this problem — inebriation in the civil service — by publicly dismissing in 1974 six civil servants in the Department of Justice. "The use of hard drink during working hours," reported the councillor for justice, "had reached such a critical level that . . . in one day no less than four Zulu officials at a certain magistrate's office were so heavily under the influence that they were unable to perform their duties." He promised no mercy for officials who "lower the dignity of the Government service by the abuse of liquor."^[6]

The administration of Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu is further hindered by the fragmentary and dispersed character of the two homelands and their populations, by the waste involved in servicing and administering noncontiguous fragments of territory, by a sheer shortage of physical facilities and hardware, and, above all, by the consequent need to rely upon the government of the Republic for administrative assistance. Before 1976, Bophuthatswana was better placed than KwaZulu in terms of office space, having been given the buildings of the old Imperial Reserve outside Mafeking from which the Bechuanaland Protectorate was administered until it became Botswana. Mafeking is a white area, however, and a new capital, at first planned at Heystekrand near Rustenburg, is now to be built at Ramitsogo in the Zeerust district. KwaZulu's poverty of office space is indicative of its overall handicap. Ulundi, the future seat of government, was first occupied in 1976. Until then Nongoma was the seat of the legislature, the paramount chief, and the commissioner-general. Chief Buthelezi, the chief executive councillor, lived

[5] Jean Le May, "The Homelands in Doldrums," The Star, 29 April 1974; Natal Mercury, 31 Jan. 1974.

[6] Walter Kanye, quoted in The Star, 16 May 1974.

at Mahlabatini, thirty miles away over an unpaved road. (When the central government refused to build Buthelezi an office in Mahlabatini, he obtained funds for such a structure from the Evangelical Lutheran Church of West Germany. When several Swiss churches offered to provide him with a Swiss secretary, however, the central government refused her a residence permit. Again in 1976 the government refused to issue a visa for an official from the Oxford Committee for Famine Relief who was to have directed a development project in KwaZulu.^[7] )

Sixty-six percent of the Tswana and 49 percent of the Zulu live elsewhere at any time, most of them permanently in the white areas. They are thus administered, in many respects on behalf of the governments of the homelands, by South Africa. This is true with respect to the collection of taxes — the so-called quota revenue and any future additional homeland levies — in the urban areas, the administration of education, and the preparation and actual running of elections. Hence Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu must involve South Africa in the voting arrangements for their absent electors. The government of the Republic provides the machinery for voting at magistrates' courts and Bantu commissioners' offices throughout the Republic. In the case of all of the homelands, South African machinery and computers process citizenship documents on which, in the case of KwaZulu, the registration for the homeland's first election will depend. In these and in numerous other major and minor administrative respects, the governments of South Africa and the homelands are still intertwined. Their relationship is bound to remain unequal until the homelands develop financial resources of their own and considerably greater autonomy in policy making than they now possess.

Elections and Parties

Since the passage of the Transkei Constitution Act of 1963, separate development has politicized systems that previously had been administrative entities only. According to British models of representation, the Republic created a legislative apparatus, latterly with a minority of elected members, for the homelands. Elections have also been presumed necessary, although of our two case studies only the voters of Bophuthatswana have gone to the polls. That process precipitated the development of organized political activity within the homeland. Previously, from the establishment of the reconstituted Tswana Territorial Authority in 1968, the Tswana had been governed in several areas by twelve regional authorities, each of which had sent several

[7] Daily News (Durban), 9 Jan. 1976. Facilities for administration were hardly ideal. Two departments, Authority Affairs and Finance, and Justice, were at Nongoma, the other four in Pietermaritzburg, 150 miles away. Meetings of the Executive Council, at times weekly, required long journeys.

from among their own number to sit on the Territorial Authority. Of the fifty-eight members, twenty-nine were chiefs, seven headmen, and twenty-two councillors.^[8] (The members of the regional authorities were themselves appointed by the heads of tribal and community authorities in consultation with the minister of Bantu administration and development.) The Territorial Authority heavily-overrepresented rural areas and underrepresented the large urban concentrations. This was a natural result of methods that tied representation to traditional institutions (which rarely link offices and population) predating urban growth. Even so, however much of the representational arrangements of the old authority discriminated against urban dwellers, the new authority exaggerated that imbalance more. It provided equal representation for twelve electoral districts that ranged in population from 22,823 to 225,769.^[9] In 1972, each electoral district sent two elected representatives to the new Legislative Assembly, in addition to the members designated by each regional authority. This action, combined with the fact that the designated members were almost entirely from rural areas, gave city dwellers few representatives.

Although elections in the Transkei had necessitated the painstaking enrollment of voters in both the Transkei proper and in the white areas of the Republic, Bophuthatswana chose to avoid the complications and expense that would have been entailed in enumerating voters especially for the 1972 election. It decided to accept reference books as sufficient for the prior identification of voters. All Tswana who desired to cast ballots were asked to register before election day by the simple expedient of having their reference books stamped. At that time they chose a polling station and, with some limitation, a constituency. (Because vast numbers of Tswana live outside the homeland and have always done so, they had to choose constituencies without ever having resided therein, or even in Bophuthatswana.) Since the reference book has been the main administrative method of enforcing influx control laws and tax obligations, potential voters had to be reassured by South African officials (who wanted a high turnout) that persons "without homes as well as those not in registered employment" — serious offenses under the regulations — could nevertheless register. The chief electoral officer even stated that Tswana living illegally in Soweto would not be "endorsed out" of the urban area and returned to (possibly) fictitious home areas if they cast ballots.^[10] Nevertheless, there was substantial confusion and anxiety, and the urban Tswana vote proved to be much smaller than hoped for or anticipated by the government.

[8] Survey of Race Relations, 1968, 146–147.

[9] W. J. Breytenbach, "Election in Bophuthatswana," Bulletin of the Africa Institute of South Africa, X (1972), 387–388.

[10] The Star, 22, 29 Aug. 1972.

This limited turnout of urban Tswana greatly favored the list of candidates headed by Chief Lucas Mangope. In 1968, in a secret ballot of thirty-three to nineteen, the reconstituted Tswana Territorial Authority had chosen Mangope, a Hurutshe, to be its first chief councillor. His main opponent, Chief Tidimane Pilane, a Kgatla, had chaired the Tswana Territorial Authority from its inception in 1961. But in 1967, he and Mangope, then vice-chairman, sharply differed over the issue of self-determination, Pilane having begun to urge faster constitutional change and the establishment of a united black multihomeland state.

These sharply held ideological and temperamental differences led to the formation of separate slates of candidates, or "parties," to contest the 1972 election. In late July, Pilane announced the formation of his Seoposengwe (Unity) Party. Mangope countered in August with the Bophuthatswana National Party. Both issued manifestos and constitutions, the Seoposengwe Party needing (the election was scheduled for October) quickly to provide itself with an image distinct from that of the Bophuthatswana National Party. Thus, the leaders of the Seoposengwe Party associated themselves with Buthelezi's attempts to "force the Government to match theory with practice."^[11] The party's manifesto accepted separate development "only for the implied promises of handing us both our homeland Forefathers' land and particularly for the promise of granting Bophuthatswana its ultimate Sovereign Independence." It proposed to "give top priority in our sense of values as well as first consideration in our programme of development" to equality of opportunity for all Tswana and other homeland residents. It asserted that governments must be elected by "the people." More concretely, the party argued against Mangope's proposed Tswana university and for more attention to adult literacy and free and compulsory education. On economic development, the Seoposengwe Party asked for consultation and a "final say" over mineral exploitation within the homeland and the siting of industrial growth points. Politically, the Seoposengwe Party declared itself a Tswana organization dedicated to uniting all Tswana and at the same time cooperating and associating with other homelands. Pilane specifically called for black unity, complete and integrated consolidation of land, and the total independence of his homeland.^[12]

The Bopthuthatswana National Party reaffirmed its acceptance of the positive aspects of separate development only. Its platform included a long set of detailed economic proposals and several nationalistic assertions, e.g., that only citizens should qualify for trading rights in the homeland. It demanded to receive all taxes paid by mining companies to the Republic

[11] Ibid., 29 July 1972.

[12] Seoposengwe Party Manifesto and Constitution, July 1973; Pretoria News, 29 Aug. 1972.

for ores won from the soil of Bophuthatswana. But the most important difference between the two parties was their attitude to traditional leadership and ethnicity. Mangope strongly defends the continued involvement of chiefs in political life. "We have been severely criticized," he said, "for the large number of designated members [in the assembly], but we believe we must lead our people from what they know to what they do not know—for the concept of a general election is unknown in our traditional administration."^[13] Mangope was responsible for the inclusion of a stipulation in the Bophuthatswana constitution that permits only chiefs to become chief ministers. Pilane has argued just as strongly for a wholly elected assembly in which commoners would play a decisive role.^[14] Pilane also favors the incorporation into Bophuthatswana of other African groups (the Ndebele and the Xhosa among others) who are already settled or who may be enticed to settle within the homeland. Mangope, however, is an ethnic nationalist who stresses the rights of Tswana citizens, and he seems to imply that he would like only Tswana to be citizens of Bophuthatswana. For this and other reasons he has been hesitant until very recently to advocate a black superstate or a federation of homelands (see our discussion of Federalism in ch. 5).

Both parties campaigned vigorously, Mangope and his followers within the homeland more than in the cities, from July to October 1972. Only eight of the twelve double-member constituencies were contested, Mangope's party winning the eight seats in the remaining four districts. Thirty-nine candidates stood for the contested sixteen seats, seventeen of whom lost their deposits. Mangope's followers won twelve seats and Pilane's only four. But the Seoposengwe Party candidates obtained 101,800 votes, the winners 268,000, roughly 25,000 and 20,000 votes per seat respectively. (The remaining forty-eight seats were filled by nominees.) Both Mangope and Pilane won sizeable support in their home districts and Pilane seems to have attracted a significant proportion of the urban vote. However, city dwellers hardly cast ballots: whereas 45 percent of the voters in the rural districts went to the polls, only 15 percent of the black voters in Pretoria cast their ballots. Of the 50,000 registered black voters in urban areas, only 4,661 actually went to the polls. Overall, about 400,000 of a possible 800,000 voters cast ballots. Thus, the election demonstrated that Tswana who lived in or near cities were apt to disdain the whole process of separate development and/or to fear for their uncertain status if they actually voted. Taking time off to go to the polls might also have deprived them of earnings. Rural dwellers, more secure and also more attuned to the policies and role of the Territorial Authority, readily cast or were persuaded to cast ballots.

[13] Quoted in the Mafeking Mail, 26 Jan. 1973.

[14] See Survey of Race Relations, 1972, 39.

The electoral process must have helped to politicize many Tswana, who saw African leaders vying for support for the first time since the clashes between the African National Congress and the Pan-Africanist Congress in the late 1950s. The addition of elected members probably made Mangope's control of the government of Bophuthatswana more secure and, in the eyes of some urban Africans, more legitimate. At the same time, although both parties were new and their personnel therefore inexperienced, an organized opposition had been created that could enliven debates about the use of legislative and executive power in the homeland. The election was followed, however, not by increasing rancor between these two parties, but by a growing dispute within the ruling Bophuthatswana National Party.

The conflict centered around disputes between the two personalities who dominated the cabinet—Mangope and Chief Herman Maseloane, minister of the interior. For a time relations between the two men had been close and, from their public statements, there was little major disagreement between them. Both talked in moderate tones of the government of the Republic. Both at times attacked "terrorists" and both expressed strong nationalistic feelings. When Mangope went overseas in May 1973, Maseloane acted for him, but, after Mangope returned, signs of conflict became apparent.

Mangope apparently felt that Maseloane had attempted to undermine his authority in discussions with the central government and by machinations within the ruling Bophuthatswana National Party. Mangope moved first, in February 1974, against S. Mogotsi, the party's organizing secretary. He ousted Mogotsi, this unilateral action being approved by vote of party executives of 112 to 86. Yet members of the Executive Council criticized Mangope's leadership and also voted favorably on a motion of confidence in Maseloane.^[15] In March, when the homeland assembly met, members attacked Mangope for moving against Maseloane. He was also accused of controlling the Bophuthatswana Development Fund by claiming the power to appoint all its trustees for life. By this time Chief James Bogosing Toto, the minister of agriculture, had publicly supported Maseloane and the majority party in the assembly was decisively split. Through the commissioner-general, Mangope asked the president of the Republic to remove Maseloane from the homeland cabinet and, during a hastily called week-long recess of the assembly, the commissioner-general strenuously attempted to reconcile the opponents. Finally, however, Mangope consolidated his position and, by a vote of 60 to 7, the assembly demonstrated its confidence in Mangope's leadership.^[16] However, the two ministers remained in the cabinet

[15] Hoofstad (Pretoria), 18 February 1974; The Star, 19 February 1974; Mafeking Mail, 22 February 1974. All translations from the Afrikaans press are by Jeffrey Butler.

[16] Pretoria News, 8 April 1974; Mafeking Mail, 19 April 1974.

and at first Mangope was able to expel only V. A. Maqondoze, the chairman of the assembly, from his membership of the executive committee of the party. Maseloane and Toto successfully appealed to the courts for injunctions. For a time Mangope unwillingly accepted this anomalous position but late in the year he abandoned the Bophuthatswana National Party and took his loyal ministers and legislators into the newly organized Bophuthatswana Democratic Party.^[17]

Mangope was thus initially forced to live with unresolved conflicts that stemmed from a peculiar provision of the Bophuthatswana constitution. Chief ministers could not demand the resignation of ministers. Nor apparently could they resign themselves and reconstitute an entire cabinet. Instead, the chief minister was forced to await the pleasure of the constitutional monarch—the state president—or, practically speaking, the minister of Bantu administration and development. When the central government refused to oust a dissident, or simply wished to temporize, a homeland government would have its decision-making capacity severely reduced by having to retain a cabinet of political incompatibles. In April 1975 this situation was finally resolved in Mangope's favor. By Proclamation 84/1975 the chief minister received a plenary power of dismissal: "The Chief Minister may, for reasons which he may deem sound and cogent, . . . remove any other Minister from office." Maseloane and Toto were expelled four days later.^[18]

KwaZulu has not yet held elections. They have been delayed because Chief Buthelezi and the Legislative Assembly have refused to permit reference books—"symbols of oppression"—to be used as identifying documents for voters. Thus the usual progression to stage two of autonomy, uninterrupted and rapid in the other homelands, has been slowed dramatically here. At the second stage a homeland becomes partially self-governing and is permitted to amend certain kinds of South African legislation for implementation within the homeland area or as it affects its citizens wherever they may be in South Africa. (Security, defense, trade, and foreign relations are excluded.) Buthelezi has scorned the advantages of stage two, calling them "mere trappings," but in 1974 the KwaZulu Legislative Assembly showed that it was not prepared to wait.^[19] By unanimous vote it called for an election even if citizenship certificates had not been obtained by all Zulu. The assembly wanted to end what some of its members called an "exercise in frustration." Apparently contrary to Buthelezi's wishes, the assembly proposed to request the government of the Republic to move KwaZulu to stage

[17] Mafeking Mail, 7 June 1974; Star Weekly, 10 November 1974.

[18] Survey of Race Relations, 1975, 135.

[19] Quoted in Natal Mercury , 17 May 1974.

two without elections. Nearly all of the other homelands had achieved stage two and tiny Basotho Qwa Qwa had done so prior to a poll. But the Department of Bantu Administration and Development continued to insist on an election.^[20]

In 1975, however, Buthelezi claimed that he had twice suggested to the assembly that reference books be used for electoral registration but had been turned down. In addition, perhaps with tongue in cheek, he suggested that there were practical difficulties: because KwaZulu was "such an unconsolidated Dalmatian-skin type of thing," it had not been possible to demarcate electoral divisions. In what one newspaper regarded as a "surprise change of policy," Buthelezi announced that he would seek an amendment to the constitution in May 1976 to permit the use of reference books for the registration of voters. He anticipated an election before the end of the year.^[21]

Lack of elections has not delayed the development of vigorous politics in KwaZulu. The divisions are complex and not easily subsumed under the labels "traditional or modern," "capitalist or socialist," or "urban or rural." Major differences have arisen over how to and who should respond to official policy initiatives, whether any progress is possible by cooperating with the authorities, and what role traditional groups, particularly the Ingonyama and those around him, should play. These conflicts have been immensely complicated because of the central government's unwillingness to remain aloof, making no secret of its hope that traditional institutions and leaders would begin to play more than decorative and symbolic roles. In 1968, when Ingonyama Cyprian ka Solomon died, Prince Goodwill Zwelithini, the heir apparent, was only eighteen years-old; Prince Israel became regent on the assumption that he would exercise authority until Prince Goodwill turned twenty-five. However, in 1971, shortly after Buthelezi had begun to lead the Zulu politically, Goodwill insisted upon assuming the paramountcy. The government of the Republic had previously met with Goodwill and, pursuing its open support of traditionalism in the homelands, had presumably encouraged him to provide a countervailing influence. At Goodwill's installation the minister of Bantu administration and development, M. C. Botha, spoke of the dangers of undermining the status and position of the Ingonyama. "No member of your government," the minister said, "should consider his own position to be more important and more exalted than that of the Paramount Chief."^[22] Buthelezi promptly called the minister presumptuous and patronizing, and ever since has railed at each South African intervention in Zulu affairs.

[20] Rand Daily Mail, 9 May 1974; Comment and Opinion (Pretoria), 29 Nov. 1974.

[21] Sunday Times (Johannesburg), 6 July 1975, quoted in Survey of Race Relations, 1975, 131; Star Weekly, 14 Feb. 1976.

[22] M. C. Botha, quoted in The Star, 3 Dec. 1971; Sunday Times 5 Dec. 1971.

Buthelezi's impressive combination of traditional and modern claims to legitimacy, and his own political skills, enabled him to outwit the maneuverings of the traditionalists and their backers throughout 1972 and 1973. Indeed, at the end of 1973 Goodwill acknowledged Buthelezi's success by driving in a convoy of Zulu dignitaries to the Durban airport in order publicly to greet Buthelezi upon the chief's return from meetings in Ethiopia. In 1974 Goodwill went farther. "I give full support to my Government, led by Chief Buthelezi," he said. "I am just not prepared to become involved in politics."^[23]

But the issue has remained alive, leading to another confrontation between Buthelezi and Goodwill and renewed accusations of the involvement of whites in Zulu politics. Buthelezi responded by laying a complaint with the police under the Prohibition of Political Interference Act of 1968. Once more the issue was resolved for the time being: in January 1976, before the Legislative Assembly, Goodwill signed a categorical undertaking to "withhold myself from any participation in any form of politics and from any action or words which could possibly be interpreted as participation in politics."^[24]

Organized opposition to Buthelezi in the modern sector, but backed by traditionalists, surfaced in 1972 when a group of city dwellers formed the Zulu National Party. Led by Lloyd Ndaba, sometime editor of Africa South, a newspaper that had attacked Buthelezi and may have been supported by the central government, the party counted among its backers Prince Israel, Prince Patrick, Prince Clement, E. B. Tshabalala, a Soweto tycoon, and A. W. G. Champion, the Zulu political leader from the days of the Industrial and Commercial Workers Union in the 1920s. The party fought an Urban Council election in Umlazi, but lost badly.

Umkhonto ka Shaka (Shaka's Spear), a second opposition party, was organized in late 1973 to oppose Buthelezi. In favor of separate development and against Buthelezi's notion of African solidarity, claiming "Zulus would be swamped," Umkhonto was led by Prince David Zulu, Chief Charles Hlengwa, Abel Mhlongo, Lloyd Ndaba, and a few others associated with the discredited National Party. They all met on several occasions with a member of the Republic's Bureau of State Security and, by early 1974, it was assumed that Umkhonto was backed financially by the bureau. Goodwill disowned Umkhonto and, at its 1974 sitting, the legislature censured Chief Hlengwa, the speaker, so severely that he withdrew a motion of censure and left the assembly in disgrace. Later he lost his position as chairman of the Umbumbulu Regional Authority, an action caused by the resignation of twenty-five of its twenty-six members. As a result Hlengwa immediately lost his seat in the assembly.^[25]

[23] Natal Mercury, 25 May 1974.

[24] Copy made available by Thomas Karis; Star Weekly, 20 Dec. 1975.

[25] For details, see Natal Mercury, 1, 3, 7, 13 May and 12, 19 June 1974; The Star, 21 April and 7 May 1974.

Two other parties were formed after the demise of Umkhonto. Uvulamehlo Izimtuphuthe, of Clermont, a retired separatist church leader, organized the Zulu Labour Party, with a sparse membership. He pledged his support to Buthelezi, however, and—paradoxically—was against the participation of chiefs in politics. Champion, A. E. Buthelezi of Dassenhoek, and Lawrence and Paulos Nxele were reputed to be the founders of another party, the Voice of the People, which was announced in 1974. It was opposed to any ban on political parties.

Buthelezi's hand has been strengthened by these comparatively inept attempts to compete with him openly. He has often spoken of the inappropriateness of organized opposition within the KwaZulu political system, arguing that traditional politics were consensus politics and in particular that the Zulu should remain loyal to their past. The assembly agreed to this proposition in 1974, passing a motion to ask the minister of Bantu administration and development to empower KwaZulu to control or forbid parties prior to independence.^[26] In May 1975, the minister stated in Parliament that the KwaZulu government had in fact requested the cooperation of the South African government in prohibiting political parties among the Zulu people. He said that "the formation of political parties . . . and . . . the activities of such parties . . . are natural corollaries of democracy. . . . The holding of free elections, of which the Chief Executive Councillor has often spoken, is hardly reconcilable with the banning or control of political parties in general."^[27] This sparring did not prevent Zulu politicians from attempting to minimize their own political factionalism. In mid-May details were issued of the founding of Inkatha YakwaZulu, "a national cultural liberation movement," open to all Zulu, whose president would also be chief minister of KwaZulu. Only members of the organization would be eligible to stand for election to the Legislative Assembly. After some negotiations over the powers of the central committee in relation to the assembly, the constitution of Inkatha YakwaZulu (subsequently called Inkatha YeSizwe) was accepted by the assembly.

If elections are held in KwaZulu in 1976, as promised, and the organization is functioning vigorously, it may be extremely difficult, if not impossible, for opposition parties to run candidates at all. However, in view of the refusal of the South African government to agree to a ban on opposition parties, the claim to a monopoly of candidacies will not have the force of law, and opposition groups may be able to contest elections. Consequently, the experience of Bophuthatswana may be repeated, and in order to mobilize voters behind an official slate Buthelezi may use Inkatha YeSizwe for electoral

[26] For Buthelezi, see The Star, 28 July 1971. For the Legislative Assembly, see Rand Daily Mail, 8, 18 May 1974.

[27] House of Assembly Debates, 2 May 1975, col. 5361.

purposes, thereby institutionalizing his appeal to the Zulu masses and raising the stature of little known candidates. It has been suggested, however, that Buthelezi sees Inkatha ultimately as an African, not merely a Zulu, organization. He may envisage it as a possible successor to the banned African National Congress.^[28] The organization may, therefore, function in two ways: as a means of mobilizing Zulu votes within KwaZulu politics and at the same time of contributing to the black nationalist cause.

Buthelezi's only serious opposition within KwaZulu could come from a politician as articulate and militant as himself. Barney Irving Dladla, KwaZulu's first councillor for community affairs, began openly challenging Buthelezi's leadership in early 1974. A former teacher and businessman from Estcourt and a sometime member of the African National Congress, he helped to found the Pan-Africanist Congress. Now fifty-one years-old, Dladla became prominent during the industrial strikes in Durban and Richards Bay in early 1973. At that time Zulu workers looked to him for support and guidance. Always articulate, he became their spokesman. During the textile strikes in Durban at the beginning of 1974, Dladla was again prominent. He negotiated on the strikers' behalf without consulting or waiting to receive instructions from Buthelezi's cabinet. As a result, Buthelezi transferred responsibility for Zulu labor affairs to Solomon Ngobese, KwaZulu's official urban representative (see below), and furthermore suggested that his government should remain officially aloof from labor disputes in the white areas of the country.

The growing rift between Buthelezi and Dladla became public during the 1974 sitting of the assembly. Buthelezi demanded a pledge of unequivocal support from each of the members of his cabinet and chastized Dladla for daring to criticize his decisions. At an afternoon sitting Buthelezi repeated his request for a pledge of allegiance and members of the cabinet arose one by one to express their confidence in Buthelezi's leadership. Dladla sat still, staring into the distance. Later Dladla counterattacked, complaining of persecution. (Under the KwaZulu constitution, executive councillors can be dismissed only by a resolution of the Assembly on the recommendation of the chief executive councillor.)

Clearly there was an intense rivalry. Both Buthelezi and Dladla are strong personalities and they have disagreed on a number of policy matters. Dladla had long differed with Buthelezi and others over the kinds of developmental tactics to be followed in the homeland. On many occasions Dladla had apparently taken decisions regarding development without the consent of the cabinet. With regard to labor recruitment within the homeland, Dladla wanted to charge employers per contracted worker, a form of tax on labor hitherto unknown within South Africa. In Addis Ababa in 1973 Dladla had

[28] The Times, 14 March 1976.

objected to the way in which Buthelezi presented KwaZulu's stand on separate development to a conference of Americans and Africans. Free enterprise-oriented, Dladla has espoused large-scale industrial development. Buthelezi, on the other hand, has favored smaller scale operations. Because he differed from Buthelezi over the kinds of developmental tactics to be followed in the homeland, Dladla had long criticized the efficiency and motives of the Bantu Investment Corporation, a body with which Buthelezi has continued to work, though not without friction. Dladla opposed the corporation's monopoly of certain business areas. Most of all, Dladla had angered his colleagues by initially taking decisions regarding homeland growth and urban strikes. "When there is a fire one must act quickly to extinguish it," Dladla replied in extenuation.^[29]

At mid-year, after the controversy between Buthelezi and Dladla had intermittently boiled and simmered, reconciliations being followed by fresh recriminations, Buthelezi transferred Dladla from the councillorship of the Department of Community Affairs to a similar position as head of the Department of Justice. The cabinet censured Dladla for talking out of turn. Then Dladla resigned from the cabinet, only to retract that resignation a few days later. He promised to continue to disagree with his colleagues, accused Buthelezi of dictatorship, claimed that Buthelezi was against the formation of black trade unions (because they frightened foreign investors), and implied that Buthelezi was corruptly benefiting from the construction of a house.^[30] Although he had finally signed the pledge of loyalty to Buthelezi, their differences were as intense as ever. Eventually, in late August 1974 the assembly removed Dladla from the KwaZulu cabinet by a vote of seventy-eight to zero.^[31] But such bitter disagreements cannot be buried in homeland politics. When KwaZulu holds elections Dladla and his mostly urban backers will doubtless provide opposition for Buthelezi.

The Legislatures

Insofar as their mandates permit, legislative assemblies make the law for Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu. The narrowness of their scope is obvious from an examination of their debates, especially on the estimates (or budget); although in time the assemblies may mature institutionally, at present they tend to ratify legislation without extensive informed discussion. Both also meet only twice a year for sittings of short duration (once in regular session,

[29] Quoted in Natal Mercury, 22 May 1974. For the controversy, see ibid. , 14, 15, 21 May and 13, 17, 22, 25 June 1974.

[30] Ibid. , 29 June 1974.

[31] Rand Daily Mail, 29 Aug. 1974.

usually a second time in special session). In format and procedure they are Western, with sergeants-at-arms, maces, and chairmen and vice-chairmen. The government and the opposition parties face each other on parallel benches, in Bophuthatswana meeting in the Montshiwa township community hall near Mafeking, in KwaZulu sitting until 1976 in a school hall in Nongoma. The proceedings are extremely formal, the members arriving dressed as for the stiffest state occasion.

When the elected Bophuthatswana Legislative Assembly met for the first time in late October 1972, its members chose Chief Mangope as chief minister by a vote of sixty to eight (for Pilane), with both the government and the opposition obtaining support from the nominated representatives. On the second day of the sitting the Bophuthatswana Flag Bill passed laboriously through the various parliamentary stages: second reading, committee, and then the third reading. Everything had painstakingly to be translated from the speaker's tongue into one of the other two of the assembly's three official languages (Tswana, English, and Afrikaans). There was hardly any discussion except for a short, irrelevant speech at the committee stage. The Payment and Privileges of Members Bill followed. During the committee stage, the minister of the interior attempted successfully to amend the bill in order to deny remuneration to the chief whip and assistant whip of the opposition if the numbers in opposition fell below half of the majority. Members of the Seoposengwe Party curiously failed to react. The first session continued in this desultory vein for five days, the proceedings being covered in fifty-one pages of the assembly's published debates.

Taken together, they, and the proceedings of subsequent sessions, demonstrate the natural inexperience of the Tswana legislators. The presiding officers were nervous and several of the ministers read speeches written out in full by their white departmental secretaries. The level of debate was correspondingly low. There was some skirmishing on points of procedure and, during the presentation of the estimates, specific complaints (in particular about the hiring of white officials). It is hardly surprising that one reporter noted that there was much "fidgeting" among members and frequent appeals for attention.^[32]

In the 1973 session there was, however, a spirited debate on a motion of no-confidence. It was moved by Chief Pilane, leader of the opposition of eight members, but he carried the debate largely on his own. In 1974, when the disunity of Mangope's Bophuthatswana National Party became explicit and public, Mangope found himself under attack by some of his own followers, as well as the official opposition. The discussion degenerated into a slanging match.

[32] The Star, 2 Nov. 1972.

The KwaZulu Legislative Assembly functioned at first in a matter-of-fact manner. Because of the need for frequent translations (many of the traditional members understand only Zulu), the proceedings were extremely time-consuming. They were usually dignified and formalized and, until the disputes between Buthelezi and Dladla, there was little real debate. Indeed, motions were piled on motions in a bewildering sequence. However, Buthelezi rarely missed a parliamentary opportunity (especially with the press in attendance) to make known his disdain for white "guidance." He dominated the whole, having demonstrated his abilities in 1972 by guiding the long and detailed KwaZulu draft constitution through the assembly. Then his recommendations and amendments, even those seriously limiting the role of the Ingonyama, were approved without arousing traditional opposition. Conflict within the traditional elite of Zululand has yet to achieve its fullest expression in parliamentary maneuvering or debates.

The major, and unavoidable annual task of British style legislatures, is the consideration of the estimates and the appropriation of revenue. Although ch. 6 contains a lengthy review of budgets, and of expenditures and sources or revenue (with tables), it is important here, in order to understand the relevant policy constraints, to anticipate that discussion in outline.

The budgets of both homelands have demonstrated a steady but unspectacular growth in homeland activity. In both areas expenditures approximately doubled in the three years prior to 1975, with a slightly greater relative increase in KwaZulu, an increasing rate of growth in Bophuthatswana, and a constantly high rate of growth in KwaZulu. The proportion of revenue spent in each department shows differences between one homeland and another, but within each homeland considerable stability over the three years.

Until the fiscal year 1974/75, the homelands obtained revenue from taxes, fees, and licenses directly under their control and sums voted by the Parliament of the Republic.^[33] The amounts from the first source have risen substantially since 1972, but funds from the Republic have increased far more. In addition, budgetary shortfalls were made good by large sums voted by Parliament. In the 1974 budget, additional grants to homelands went up by 50 percent, the largest single increase being R20 million to KwaZulu. The homelands, therefore, received roughly half of their total revenues from an appropriation debated every year in the all-white Parliament. As expenditures on Africans can be a sensitive matter in South Africa, both Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu have been dependent upon the Republic's government, the goodwill of which reflects the forces of white politics. That dependence is likely to continue because the government firmly resisted suggestions in Parliament in 1975 that homeland governments be consulted over the

[33] At the end of 1974 Vorster announced changes in homeland financing. See 143–144 below.

amounts to be paid to them. A deputy minister replied that such a change would amount to giving homeland governments a say in the affairs of the Republic.^[34]

Bophuthatswana presented its first budget as a self-governing entity early in 1973. A. J. Raubenheimer, then the deputy minister of Bantu administration and development, opened the session with an attempt to allay disappointment over the size of the Republic's contribution to the budget. "Money is not the only requirement for the development of a country," he said. "It also requires the devotion and zeal of its people."^[35] When Mangope introduced the estimates, the import of Raubenheimer's statement was evident: instead of the R29 million requested by Mangope, expenditures were set at R18 million, 30 percent of which would be derived from revenues collected and controlled by the homeland.

Mangope had originally planned a considerable increase in his government's responsibilities. "Unfortunately," he told the legislators, "I have to report that we have very little funds available for capital and other development." It has become "impossible to do much extension of capital works like the erection of buildings in townships, schools, roads, and other development works."^[36] Mangope complained vehemently about the failure of the Department of Bantu Administration and Development to provide more than a token increase in resources although the Republic derived substantial returns from platinum and other minerals mined in Bophuthatswana — for which the homeland received nothing. When Vorster suggested changes in the basis of taxation of mines in the homelands, Mangope welcomed the change: "The question of revenue from the mines has long been a sore point with us." Furthermore, because of the way in which whites serving in the homeland were paid from quota revenues, "more money," said Mangope, "went out of the homeland coffers to pay whites who generally earned more than Africans."^[37]

Faced with a serious shortfall, Mangope's predicament exemplified the problems that self-government has created for African leaders: it removes whites as targets and places unpleasant administrative tasks in black hands. In the budget debate of 1973 and after, Mangope and his colleagues appealed to their people to pay their taxes on time: Maseloane warned Tswana that failure to pay taxes was "a crime." To tide Bophuthatswana over temporarily, the assembly authorized the government to borrow R1.5 million from the

[34] Republic of South Africa, House of Assembly Debates (10 Feb. 1975), cols. 468, 533.

[35] Republic of South Africa, Bophuthatswana, Debates of the Bophuthatswana Legislative Assembly, 13 March 1973, 26. (Hereafter cited as Bophuthatswana Debates ).

[36] Mafeking Mail, 23 March 1973.

[37] Rand Daily Mail, 20 March 1973.

Republic to alleviate the shortage of teachers.^[38] But additional taxation could not be avoided. In 1974 the assembly decided to levy R2.5 on Tswana citizens wherever they resided, the tax to be collected by receivers of revenue in the Republic and by other homeland governments.^[39] The tax by itself will do little to diminish the interdependence of all the homelands and South Africa, nor will it provide a substantial source of revenue. Bophuthatswana is, therefore, still limited in its freedom to initiate new programs.

A study of the KwaZulu assembly's budgetary sitting in 1973 only reinforces the limitations placed on homeland initiatives. When introducing his budget Buthelezi said that he had been forced to trim his estimates when he finally heard what the size of the parliamentary grant was going to be. As this is the only portion of the budget that varies appreciably, its size determines how enterprising and ambitious homeland governments can be. Buthelezi made clear the limits on his freedom to initiate. "The stage where we are is such that all programs of development are dictated to us by the Central Government." KwaZulu controlled only 23 percent of its total revenue, and therefore Buthelezi was going to impose a new tax of R3 on Zulu men over eighteen years of age. But he estimated that it would raise only R1.75 million, 2 percent of total revenue, in the fiscal year 1974/75.^[40] A year later he seemed to have trimmed that estimate, saying he expected to collect R1.0 million in the first year. He hoped that the amount would rise to R1.5 million and then to R2.0 million.^[41]

Buthelezi's resources entirely under his own command thus remain limited. And the spectacular rises in the estimates are misleading if they are taken as indices of development. As in the case of Bophuthatswana, teacher salaries were raised by 17 percent, a rise that absorbed more than half the increase in the educational budget. Furthermore, the high rate of inflation, and the attempt by KwaZulu to narrow the gap between white and black wage rates, leave little room for real growth in services.

At this stage the legislatures of the homelands exist primarily to approve decisions made by the Republic and, to a lesser degree, by their own leaders. The scope of legislation passed is narrow, sometimes dealing with the symbols of public life. Members are not yet used to holding their leaders responsible for acts of state by the use of such devices as parliamentary questions, although the use of motions of no-confidence is growing. In more experienced and autonomous parliaments, discussions of legislative proposals are often detailed and technical, especially during the committee stage. In Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu discussions have been brief and perfunctory, partly

[38] For Maseloane and the loan, see Mafeking Mail, 25 May 1973.

[39] Ibid. , 26 April 1974.

[40] KwaZulu Debates (1973), 109.

[41] Star Weekly, 2 March 1974.

because the procedure is new to most members, partly because the membership played no part in formulating proposals, and partly because the members are unaware of the role an assembly could play. As yet they therefore have little real stake in the proceedings, and that stake is not likely to grow until the resources available are large enough to make choices—and therefore genuine conflicts of interest among Africans—more real.

Executive Councils

Bophuthatswana, having reached stage two of self-government, has a cabinet of ministers; KwaZulu, still in stage one, has an executive council of executive councillors: ministers and councillors have roughly analogous departmental responsibilities. If the councils follow the British models on which they are ultimately based, they will exercise a collective responsibility for their legislative and administrative acts. But the conventions of responsibility have been slow in developing in the two homelands because it is not yet clear what control leaders have over the composition of their councils. Dissident ministers in both homelands have proved extremely difficult to discipline and eject. Although the leaders appear to dominate the assemblies and their executives, they are not fully in command of their followers.

The councils meet regularly, usually weekly, and include the department heads (ministers), the chief ministers, and the secretaries (in KwaZulu they are called directors). So far the latter have all been whites, transferred from the Republic. They refrain from participating unless requested to do so.

In addition to Mangope, the Bophuthatswana cabinet consists of N. T. Matseke, Interior; Chief B. Motsatsi, Works; M. Setlogelo, a commoner, Education; T. M. Molathwa, another commoner, Health; Chief V. Shuping, Agriculture; and Chief Thipe Victor Makapan, Justice. Molathwa and Setlogelo are each over forty years old. Setlogelo, a Rolong from Thaba 'Nchu, was a teacher. Makapan, for many years until 1966 an interpreter employed by the Republic's Department of Information, became a chief in late 1972. He has completed ten of eleven courses for a B.A., presumably by correspondence from the University of South Africa. The other university-educated member is Molathwa, who obtained a B.Sc. in hygiene at Fort Hare. He was then employed by the Institute of Family and Community Health in Merebank, Natal, became a health inspector in Kimberley, and in 1964 returned home and opened a general store in Taung. The chiefs have strong traditional roots and tend to emphasize the Tswana character of their government. As a cabinet, it is more "nationalistic" and less overtly politicized than its counterpart in KwaZulu.

The KwaZulu executive councillors are Walter Kanye, Community Affairs; Chief Everson Xolo, Works; James Alfred Walter Nxumalo, Education; Chief

Owen Sithole, Agriculture; and Jeffrey Mthethwa, Justice. Although Xolo is only thirty-five years-old, the other councillors are in their mid- and late forties, and Nxumalo is sixty-five. Nxumalo has a teacher's certificate, and, after being educated at St. Chad's, Ladysmith, obtained his B.A. through the University of South Africa. He was a supervisor of schools, then an inspector, a position he held for several decades until joining the council in 1972. Chief Xolo attended the school for the sons of chiefs in Nongoma. Kanye attended school at Marianhill, Pinetown, became a clerk at a gold mine for more than two years, and assumed the position of assistant secretary of the nonlegal African Mineworkers Union. As a result, he lost his job in 1946. Kanye then obtained a position with a bus company, becoming one of its first few African inspectors before 1950, when he left to work with his father on a coal mine in Natal. There he held a clerical post until 1958, when he became secretary of the Usutu Tribal Authority. In 1971 he was elected to represent the Nongoma Regional Authority on the Zulu Territorial Authority. At the time of the formation of KwaZulu's first cabinet, he held the Agriculture portfolio, but since Sithole lived near Pietermaritzburg, where the Department of Agriculture was housed, Kanye and Sithole swapped councillorships simply to limit the distances that they would each have to travel. Mthethwa, who succeeded Dladla in the council, is a businessman from Msinga.

Urban Representatives

Since so much of the population of Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu is resident in the Republic, and thus is "extraterritorial," the governments of the homelands may delegate their obligations and some of their responsibilities to subcabinet officials known as urban representatives. They were provided for in the Promotion of Bantu Self-Government Act of 1959, originally being appointed by and acting as agents of the government of the Republic. They were meant to replace existing elected urban African advisory boards, but the boards were instead superseded almost everywhere by elected Urban Bantu councils, which function separately from arrangements made for and with the homelands. Earlier, too, the representatives were conceived of as "ambassadors" from the homelands to their peoples in the cities, but the analogy is inaccurate. In fact, they do not represent one government to another, but rather a homeland's authority to its nominal citizens. The analogy would be useful only if, say, American diplomats abroad had no other function than to look after the interests of their own country's citizens.

The role of urban representative has come to be partly consular (collecting and trying to deal with grievances and attempting to intervene with official urban bodies on behalf of citizens), and partly political (working to improve communications between urban Tswana and Zulu and their governments).

The most recent estimates, those for the fiscal year 1975/76, for Bophuthatswana provide for one urban representative and three assistant urban representatives, the latter an increase of two over the previous year. The urban representative has a salary—indicative of the importance attached to the position—higher than any other homeland employee except the top two civil servants and the chief minister. The assistant representatives serve in Pretoria, Soweto, the Reef towns, and Welkom in the Free State gold fields. (There are two unpaid representatives in Cape Town and Bloemfontein.) They are full-time personnel and are provided with a car, an office, and clerical assistance. One of their major tasks is to obtain revisions of incorrect ethnic classifications. The representatives thus appear regularly before Bantu Affairs commissioners as advocates. Recently, too, their responsibilities have been increased with the establishment of Urban Tswana boards appointed by the representative at meetings for Tswana. Cities are to have boards of seven members, small towns boards of five. The chairmen are appointed by the representative in consultation with the board.

Solomon Ngobese, KwaZulu's first urban representative, mayor of Umlazi, and a former oil company employee, was appointed in late 1973. The yearly salary voted him, R5,000, R2,000 more than that voted by Bophuthatswana for its urban representative, was also higher than that for any other KwaZulu official except the chief executive councillor. The urban representative is supposed to provide the main channel for inquiries and complaints from Zulu citizens in the Republic. He is charged with investigating matters relating to resettlement and education. After the conflict between Dladla and Buthelezi, Ngobese was also given the additional responsibility of looking after the interests of Zulu workers in the cities.

In 1975 Gibson Joseph Thula became the KwaZulu government's principal urban representative. In 1976 he had three deputies. Thula, a former teacher and social worker who had served as vice-president of the Black Social Workers Association of South Africa from 1965 to 1967, and had then worked in public relations for a large liquor company, was based in Soweto. His deputies were responsible for Umlazi (Durban), Orange Free State (gold fields), and Transvaal (also Soweto) problems. Thula was also active as a publicity chairman of Inkatha YeSizwe, the Zulu National Cultural Liberation movement. By 1976 Thula divided his time as the principal urban representative of KwaZulu between assisting Zulu who had problems with the bureaucratic or security machinery of the Republic and representing KwaZulu to the leaders of urban black (and white) South Africa.

White Officials

The homelands still depend in many ways upon the cooperation of the central government. Departments other than that of Bantu Administration and

Development, e.g., Water Affairs, Public Works, Transport, and the Postal Administration, remain responsible for many services in the homelands. Officials are seconded from central governmental service, not hired on contract by the homelands. They are therefore far more responsible to their old than to their new masters and, consequently, there is a considerable range in the quality of the service they render. Many officials are punctillious; others have led Mangope, Buthelezi, and other legislators to complain. For example, in June 1974 Mangope reacted vehemently to delays and misdirection of salary checks to teachers, accusing unnamed officials of acting "deliberately to prove that Blacks were incapable of running their own affairs." He then generalized the attack. "For years we have been going cap in hand, begging Whites who are only interested in [an] 'inconvenience allowance.'"^[42] Members of the KwaZulu Legislative Assembly have said that the appalling condition of their roads was due to uncooperative and inefficient officials in the Department of Works.^[43] Both Buthelezi and Mangope have reacted strongly to what they regard as meddling by whites in homeland politics. But given the overall framework, the institutions and policies within which both officials and homeland leaders operate, the conduct of officials has not been the major issue.

The official representatives from the Republic to the homelands are the commissioners-general. Created by the Promotion of Bantu Self-Government Act of 1959, these officials were meant to "furnish guidance and advice . . . promote the development of . . . consult with . . . [and] enlighten the population."^[44] Thus, in these paternalistic terms, the commissioner-general of a homeland was intended to represent not only the central government to a homeland, but also the Republic to the people of the subordinate "national unit."

Their mandates are complex; the commissioners-general are frequently placed in awkward positions because in practice they are not always the channels of contact between the homelands and Pretoria. Mangope and Buthelezi, and their cabinets, frequently deal directly with the South African prime minister or his associates. Administratively, too, the major tasks of coordination and policy making are between homeland departments and the state's Department of Bantu Administration and Development. It is not clear when the commissioners-general are used as a channel of communication and when they are not. They play no part in the summit conferences of homeland leaders and Republican ministers. Their position is as anomalous as is

[42] Mafeking Mail , 7 June 1974. Presumably Mangope referred to a special allowance paid to white officials serving in the homelands.

[43] Natal Mercury , 10 May 1974.

[44] Quoted in Gwendolen Carter, Thomas Karis, and Newell M. Stultz, South Africa's Transkei: The Politics of Domestic Colonialism (Evanston, 1967), 54.

that of the urban representatives. They are not diplomats representing one government to another, and unlike the urban representatives, they have no special responsibility for the interests of citizens of the Republic who may be "temporarily" in the homelands.

The commissioners-general are usually loyal politicians of the second rank who have long taken an interest in African affairs or who have grown up in a particular area and hence have a command of an African language. They tend to hold their posts for a long time. The veteran was Hans Abraham, the first commissioner-general in the Transkei, who played a forceful, hence controversial, role there. On at least one occasion before he retired in 1973, the Transkei government requested his removal. Once he referred to Africans as "heathens," which led Mangope to demand an apology from him.^[45] P. H. Torlage, commissioner-general to the Zulu and Swazi national units, a former leader of the National Party in Natal, spoke Zulu. Dr. T. S. Kloppers, a medical practitioner, commissioner-general to the Tswana for thirteen years, was succeeded by Senator Gerhardus A. Wessels in 1973. Wessels was for a long time chairman of the National Party Senate group on Bantu affairs. He speaks and writes Zulu, Xhosa, and Swazi, and said on his appointment that he aimed to master Tswana in "three to six months." He has long urged the teaching of African languages in white schools.^[46]

It is difficult for commissioners-general to avoid becoming involved in the politics of the African communities to which they are accredited; indeed their mandate would almost require them to do so. In March 1974 Wessels became deeply involved, almost certainly against his wishes, in the clash between Mangope and Maseloane. When the Legislative Assembly opened, a motion of no-confidence in Mangope was proposed by Maseloane and Chief Toto, and both of them, with the chairman of the assembly, took their motion to the commissioner-general. According to Maseloane, the commissioner-general had tried to act as a peacemaker before the assembly began, but Mangope had insisted on taking the matter "to the people." When a legal question arose as to Mangope's competence to remove Maseloane as a chairman of a regional authority, the Department of Bantu Administration and Development, at the suggestion of the commissioner, sent an opinion, which denied Mangope's contention, to the secretary of justice of Bophuthatswana; the opinion was then read out in the assembly.^[47] A commissioner-general can, therefore, easily be drawn deeply into conflicts among Africans, particularly if he should appear to be taking sides. Although Wessels has apparently been able to avoid such a charge in Bophuthatswana, his counterpart in KwaZulu, Torlage,

[45] Die Transvaler (Johannesburg), 19 March 1973.

[46] Ibid. , 9 June 1973; Pretoria News , 15 June 1973.

[47] Hoofstad , 22 March 1974; Rand Daily Mail , 27 March 1974; Mafeking Mail , 19 April 1974, May 24, 1974.

was criticized by Buthelezi early in 1973 for working too closely with the Ingonyama and thus against the elected leader of the Zulu.

The range of a commissioner-general's activity is wide and can involve humdrum matters of administration. At times he acts as a channel of complaints. In KwaZulu, Torlage tried hard to make himself accessible to and known by Zulu. He had his office in a large new brick and stone building outside Nongoma. In his conference hall, where the walls are decorated boldly with photographs of historically important Zulu, he met official delegations. He saw individuals "off the street," too, and referred their problems to the proper authorities. Charting a course between interference and availability, Torlage tried to avoid infringing upon the purview of officials in departments or those of homeland leaders.

The commissioners-general have no legislative role except to transmit measures passed by assemblies to the relevant Republican minister. In turn, the ministers send them on to the president, who promulgates or denies them. So far no measures passed by the assemblies of Bophuthatswana and KwaZulu have been refused, but the assemblies have passed nothing controversial except for educational matters. The departments, especially that of Bantu Administration and Development, seem to have encouraged commissioners-general to speak often to homeland and urban audiences on the future of separate development. Torlage, for instance, in 1972 told Africans in Germiston that Zulu needed more opportunities for employment, not additional land. "What is the use of more land," he said, "if the people living there have no work? . . . It now rests with you to create new opportunities for work in the homelands." He urged urban Africans, because of their knowledge of the West and accumulated skills, to go "home."^[48] In 1973 Torlage made another round of visits to Springs, Germiston, and Soweto. To meetings of 500 and 800 people he spoke of "building bridges to the homelands." In KwaZulu, Torlage has been active in attempting to smooth the path for these "returnees" but with limited success: local people frequently distrust urban outsiders who have in many cases never before entered a homeland. They do not want newcomers, with their "know-how" and Western ideas, to usurp commercial or other local economic opportunities.

The commissioners-general have no control over the civil servants who staff the administrative machinery of the homelands. It is these officials, not the commissioners-general, who are in a position to exert great influence, even control, in many areas of policy. The secretaries (directors) provide the staff and, in some departments, the line functions, irrespective of these tasks being performed by subordinate whites or blacks. In relation to their ministers these officials "caution, advise, and warn," and make information

[48] Quoted in The Star , 14 June 1972.

available on matters of fact and procedure. They cannot and do not command. But of course they could withhold evidence, fail to make inquiries, and inhibit the actions of ministers generally. However, most of these senior officials have been careful to play their roles as administrators properly. But however impeccable their behavior, they control the making of the new civil services. They remain responsible for recruiting, training, and reporting on those who will replace them. Africans do not yet appoint persons to supernumary positions, where blacks are trained to work side by side with the whites who are leaving. Furthermore, the white administrators are also paid by the Republic and their salaries do not appear on the local estimates. (This device has the advantage, from the Republic's point of view, of not publicizing within the homeland assemblies the disparities between the salaries of whites and blacks.) The most important effect is that neither Bophuthatswana nor KwaZulu yet has any control over the individual salaries, the total salary bill, or the output of the whites sent to serve it.