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Dangling the Land as a Carrot’: The Bantustans and the Territorial Extension under the Apartheid Regime in South Africa

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Chitja Twala,

Ayanda Sphelele Ndlovu^*

Chitja Twala,

Ayanda Sphelele Ndlovu^*

This version is not peer-reviewed

Submitted:

07 May 2024

Posted:

08 May 2024

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Abstract

The aim of this article is three-fold: firstly, it is to highlight how the different Bantustans with the focus to Transkei, Bophuthatswana, Venda, and Ciskei also know as the (TBVC) States secured extra territories. However, these Bantustans remained unrecognized in the international community because of their financial dependence to the apartheid regime. Secondly, the successes and failures of this process are fundamental in understanding the territorial monopolies of the Bantustans and thirdly we will interrogate how the Bantustan residents who were against the process mobilized other residents to reject the proposal and attempts of territorial expansion. Furthermore, this article contributes to the broader Bantustan’s historiography on the intended economic spin-offs with these endeavors. We contend that the above have received little scholarly attention. The methodology of this article draws from an historical approach and utilizes a range of different archival documentary sources, most importantly material housed in South Africa’s national archives and British Commonwealth archives. In conclusion, we argue in this article that these developments of territorial expansion had little benefits for the Bantustans and the extended territories adjacent to them.

Keywords:

Subject: Arts and Humanities - History

Introduction

In May 1948, the National Party (NP) won the ‘all white’ elections in South Africa under the leadership of Daniel Malan who then became the country Prime Minister. The NP endorsed its legitimacy by passing the Bantu Authorities Act of 1951.1 The Act aimed at ‘compensating’ the Bantu2 for its abolishing of the Native Representative Council (NRC), which had not met since 1948. The new law allowed for the establishment of ‘Bantu Authorities’, tribal, regional, or territorial. Structures to achieve the above were initiated in 1959 after the passing of the ‘Promotion of Bantu Self-Government Act’ which abolished indirect representation of Bantu in Pretoria (apartheid regime’s headquarters) and divided Bantu into ten ethnically separate groups, accelerated the process of territorial expansion to formulate Bantustans. This was one of the apartheid’s odious policies whereby territorial extension by the Bantustans3 was encouraged. Apartheid leaders frequently dangled extra land as a ‘carrot’ to encourage Bantustan leaders to apply for the so-called ‘independence’ of the African people. Dugard refers the question of dividing the country into smaller so-called ‘independent’ states was an endorsement de-nationalizing the country (Dugard, 2020).

The history of the Bantustans in South Africa has not attempted to investigate the relevance of territorial expansion to the broader scholarship of the Bantustanization of the country. As shown in the subsequent sub-sections of this paper, no scholarly research has been undertaken to fully comprehend this phenomenon. Thus, making this contribution important for the Bantustan historiography. We argue in this paper that the Bantustan project by its nature was forcing Africans to what other scholars refer to as the ‘dumping grounds’ of those ‘surplus’ Africans deemed unfit to reside in what became known as ‘White areas’4 of South Africa. In this case, we contend that the Bantustan leaders were used by the apartheid regime to make this project of ‘divide-and-rule’ a success. The aim of the Bantustans was to separate the African population and isolate them from urban areas and economic opportunities. Even the additional territories given to the Bantustans did not hold any of the fertile ground of South Africa, thus perpetuating the ‘dumping ground’ affirmation by the apartheid regime.

Justifying the argument that the Bantustans were ‘dumping grounds’, (Desmond 1971) explained: ‘… dumping grounds for those beyond migrant work … The Bantustans could easily be exposed to hold little more political life than what emanated from its chiefs and other bearers of ‘tribal’ traditional values’. Another scholar (Egerö 1991) noted: ‘The Bantustan leaders represented an adaptation to the fact that Bantustan leaderships were no longer obedient watchdogs of their people. They change their alliance in favour of the anti-apartheid movements and people in the Bantustans, or they are in serious risk of being swept away by the strength of change blowing through the Bantustans’. It became clear therefore that whatever territorial extension of the Bantustans, that assisted the apartheid regime to further isolate the African population from the urban areas.

In this paper we highlight the following important observations. Firstly, the question of territorial extension was guided and confirmed that access to additional land to the Bantustans was misguided as a framework for fast-tracking pseudo-independence as promoted by the regime. Thus, patronage to the regime became the order of the day. Secondly, the Bantustan strategy and the regime approach for territorial extension given to the Bantustan leaders turned to be self-defeating because access to financial power promoted maladministration and corruption from both sides, namely, the apartheid officials and the Bantustan leaders. With this, there were little reforms in the structural conditions of governance and heightened subordination to the regime. Inside and outside the Bantustan territories where extension was given, there existed intensification and contradictions regarding the levels of defense against repression. The extended territories which were sometimes far from the Bantustan headquarters, repression widened into a general anti-apartheid opposition. Thirdly, the appointment White civil servants as administrators in the Bantustans was an indication that the Bantustan leaders could not be trusted with the administration of their territories.

The paper seeks to investigate the impact of territorial extension to the following Bantustans, Transkei (1977), Bophuthatswana (1978), Venda (1979), and Ciskei (1981). The territories by virtue of having accepted pseudo-independence as highlighted here above, were commonly known as the TBVC states. We are sampling these for ‘states’ because of their acceptance of pseudo-independence from the apartheid regime. Although they accepted the so-called independence at different times, the impact and consequences of territorial extension were almost the same. How territorial extension led to maladministration and subsequent resistance from the Bantustans’ citizenry will also be looked at.

With Transkei being the first to accept this pseudo-independence, the status in theory meant that the territory fulfilled the wishes of the NP’s government policy that it was ‘wrong’ for Africans to remain permanently without rights of ‘self-determination’, as envisaged by the whites. We contend that this was condescending to the Africans as they could not enjoy these rights within the framework of ‘white South Africa’ but through the designed territories to advance the apartheid regime’s divide-and-rule policy. Strategically, from the regime’s viewpoint, it was to assist these Africans to ‘develop’ along tribal lines. Thus, the apartheid regime made it legal for Africans to become ‘citizens’ of their ‘independent’ Bantustans through another legislation called the Bantu Homeland Citizenship Act of 1970. This Act did not give Africans any South African citizenship or civil and political rights. In November 1969, the Bureau of Statistics estimated the South African population in rounded figures to be: 3.6 million White; 1.9 million ‘Coloured’; 600 000 Asiatic (mainly Indians); and 13 million Africans.

With the above background in mind, it is important to highlight why territorial expansion was crucial for the Bantustan leaders. As mentioned before, there were financial benefits to the Bantustans from the side of the regime. This was used to entice many Africans to be part of the Bantustans.

2. Methodological and Material Considerations

This paper is embedded within the armpits of South African struggle for social justice. In this instance, social justice is seen as equitable access to the country’s resources including spatial arrangements of dividing the populace by the regime. Here the Bantustans are viewed here as having been impediments to the achievement of social justice. The paper is based on a wide range of primary and secondary sources. The NP’s documents published between 1970 and 1990 (including the Hansards of the Parliament of South Africa) provided invaluable information on the regime’s stance on the Bantustans in general and their territorial expansion in particular. These documents also include development plans, budget statements and surveys. They also reveal how the Bantustan’s project was debated along ‘ethnic’, racial, and political lines. Annual reports gave invaluable statistics on the number of businesses supported by the regime to the Bantustans. Speeches and press statements by the regime’s officials and the TBVC leaders also proved to be handy.

The paper also used non-governmental sources. Documents from the ruling NP’s regime were used. These documents revealed the connection between national politics of the NP and the Bantustan politics. These documents also have in-depth information on the wrangles and other disputes that took place because of the rejection of the Bantustan politics. State controlled newspapers and editorial reviews by interest groups, Bantustan, and NP politicians, revealed various views and perspectives on the general Bantustan politics. Newspapers such as Die Volksblad, Beeld, etc churned the regime’s perspectives. Since the 1980s, development agencies for economic growth in the TBVC states produced detailed commissioned reports which became handy for the compilation of this paper. Subjects covered by the sources included the general socio-economic conditions, small enterprises’ development, and business linkages and how this contributed to the economic development of the Bantustans and territorial expansion.

Besides the above, the paper uses date sources such as books, journal articles, magazines, and organizations documents. In the subsequent section of this paper on literature review, such sources will be unpacked. As the authors of this paper, we became aware that some of the sources from these secondary sources proved to be bias.

3. Literature Review

In this paper, we acknowledge the literature on the Bantustans in general and the TBVC states in particular. Emphasis is also placed on the constant relationship between the territories which were deemed part of the Bantustans, despite their remoteness from their headquarters. Within South Africa, the bureaucratic apparatus of the apartheid regime continued to push leaders of the Bantustans to move toward declaring ‘independence’ from South Africa. Although the TBVC states were recognized by the apartheid regime, however, remained unrecognized in the international community. They were viewed as ‘states’ within a state. On the Bantustans scholarship, there is a lacuna regarding their territorial expansion. No literature critically looks at the success and failures of territorial monopolies of the Bantustans.

Using existing literature, this section of the paper examines the salience of territorial expansion in perpetuating inequalities in wealth distribution during the Bantustan era under discussion. For this paper, this literature advances few major arguments, for example, the NP’s deployed white Afrikaner bureaucrats as senior government officials in the Bantustans (Twala 2018). Few groups of the TBVC residents became beneficiaries of the economic spin-offs by the extended territories. Through the literature reviewed, there was little change in resource and wealth distribution, providing the context of the successes of the territorial extension. In this paper, the causes of this are elaborated. Among the contentious issues in the Bantustan discourse is identification of beneficiaries and victims of the Bantustan rule.

The question of territorial expansion of the Bantustans has not been fully explored by historians in South Africa to investigate its impact and contributions to the political and economic viability of these territories. Here, we acknowledge the works of a few scholars who attempted to write on the economic viability of the Bantustans, albeit little or no reference to their expanded territories. For example, Phillips (2018) argues that in most cases inside or outside the Bantustans, leaders claimed to be the driving forces behind the economic growth of their areas. She used the Lebowa Bantustan (of Pedi or BaPedi) as a case study to examine why ‘development’ became an important framing concept for the Bantustan project.

Another scholarly work is that by John Cowley and Anton Lemon (1986: 252-255) whereby they write about the establishment of economic development corporations in the Bophuthatswana Bantustan. The authors deal with the Bantu Investment Corporation (BIC) established in 1959, the Bantu Homelands Development Corporation (BHDC) in 1965, and the Bophuthatswana National Development Corporation (BNDC). In their work on the Bophuthatswana corporations, Bernard Mbenga, and Andrew Manson (2004: 783-784) investigated how during the 1970s economic development, particularly from the territory’s mining sector impacted on the economic growth. They concluded that in Bophuthatswana economic growth and industrial boom was concentrated on certain areas, particularly in the mining areas.

Sukude Matoti and Lungisile Ntsebeza’s chapter entitled Rural Resistance in Mpondoland and Thembuland, 1960-1963, shows the resistance that ensured in the former Transkei and Ciskei territories. The resistance was triggered by the regime’s introduction of measures called ‘betterment schemes’ and the promulgation of the 1951 Bantu Authorities Act. These authors write: ‘From the late 1930s, unpopular measures such as the culling and dipping of livestock, castration of scrub bulls and fencing were imposed on rural communities (Matoti and Ntsebeza, 2004: 177; see also, William David Hammond, 1975: 471; Ntsebeza, 2002; Umtata Archives, File 66/9/1/2).

4. The Research Findings

This section of the paper highlights its fundings regarding first, the entrenchment of the Bantustans to the South Africans. Second, it highlights the territorial extension and the impact thereof to those who resided inside and outside the Bantustans. Third and lastly, it looks at the responses to this territorial expansion dilemma which faced South Africa, which was already divided on racial terms, thus, division on ‘ethnicity’ deepened disunity amongst the South Africans.

The entrenchment of the Bantustanization of South Africa

Richard Blausten (1976: 208) explained that the basic philosophical underpinning of the Bantustan policy adhered to a skewed principle that Bantu people by birth are inherently inferior to Whites, therefore, should always be physically separated from them and treated accordingly. Departing from the above argument by Blausten, we argue in this article that, technically, the entrenchment of the Bantustanization of South Africa hinged on the process of acquiring land for the extension of the Bantustans. In pursuance of the territory extension, the apartheid regime coopted the language of nationalist movements across the African continent, arguing that the country did not consist of ‘one nation’ with a common citizenship and rights, but of many nations. Thus, Africans in South Africa became citizens of whichever Bantustan matched their ethnicity.

Whilst pursuing this, the apartheid regime, in one way or the other, disregarded the physical distance between the headquarters of the Bantustans and these created ‘enclaves’ constituting an extended territory. In return for the creation of these ‘enclaves’ under the control of the Bantustans, the regime would have succeeded with the ethnic segregation of the Bantu masses, thus, leading to financially controlling the Bantustan leaders. The apartheid regime had made political calculations that territorial extension would mean reliance on it for political and financial sustainability of these Bantustan; thus, becoming political ‘stooges’. Despite the above advances of the apartheid regime, as shown in the subsequent sections of this article, it is also worth noting that territorial extension did not only target those Bantustans which later opted for ‘independence’, but also those which bluntly rejected this pseudo-independence.

The extension of the Bantustan territories, sometimes far distant from them, was meant to secure cheap labour for white areas near such territories. The provision of additional land to the Bantustans did not only guarantee the leaders some limited fiscal ‘independence’ from the apartheid regime, but also allowed them more electoral voices for and clinching power in these ‘fiefdoms’. In essence, by granting more land, the apartheid regime sought to further isolate the Bantu masses and balkanize them through ethnic and language association. This was also to curtail the infiltration of these areas from the banned liberation movements, the African National Congress (ANC), Pan-Africanist Congress of Azania (PAC), and South African Communist Party (SACP) which, in the late 1970s, saw the possibility of underground operations in the Bantustans. In the 1980s, this led to ‘un-governability’ of the Bantustans and all the enclaves (extended territories) associated with them. The apartheid regime also played a double standard in this regard as in 1974, the then Prime Minister John Vorster issued a statement that granting ‘independence’ to the Bantustans would not be accompanied by the extension of land (Southall, 1982: 24; Stultz, 1979). As shown in the latter sections of this article, that was never kept.

The Tomlinson Commission which instituted by the apartheid regime recommended ‘… an ultimate, complete separation between Europeans and Bantu’ (Summary of the Report of the Tomlinson Commission, 106; Department of Native Affairs/UG 61, 1956).5 The commission’s report laid out plans to create ethnic ‘Homelands’, or Bantustans, and urged for increased funding for development of these areas. The aim was to make them economically viable (Darwin, 2009: 607-609). Notwithstanding the costly nature of territorial extension, the commission promoted and urged for industrialisation within the reserves and consolidation of the 264 scattered pieces of land reserved for Bantu occupancy where separate political development toward some form of modern autonomy could take place (Karis and Gerhart, 2013: 72; Cobley, 2003: 133).

Not all people inside and outside the Bantustans whose land was part of these territories agreed to this approach by the leaders of the Bantustans. First, some had different viewpoints to the offers of land transfers. To counter this, those against this approach organized themselves into anti-Bantustan groups. For example, activists and church Ministers from the Lutheran churches in Venda such as Joseph Mudluli, who died in police detention, Tshifirwa Muofhe, a student of the Lutheran seminary in Venda who also died in detention and clergymen Rev. T.S. Farisani, Rev. A.N. Mahamba, Rev. N. Phaswana, and Rev. P.M. Phosiwa were amongst the formidable forces against the independence of Venda (Cape Times, 11 January 1981; Cape Times, 22 January 1982; Kgatla, 2016: 129). Although the intention of the transfer of the land was to legitimize the Bantustan system of government, to the contrary, some of these territories became ‘springboards’ for resistance and political activism against the system.

Meanwhile, the ANC in 1985 during it second national consultive conference held in Kabwe, Zambia, noted with great concerns the apartheid government policy of separate development which resulted into Bantustans and the so-called independent states (Sechaba, August 1985). The ANC further went to argue that:

The ‘grand design’ of apartheid was to keep the Africans herded into the rural areas in a number of spurious ‘homelands’ which were allocated to them against their wishes and without their being so much as consulted. These ‘homelands’ or Bantustans provide pools of cheap labour for the white industries which can be utilised when and as required. Their economies are totally dependent on the regime and on the remittances of their migrant workers. Their pitiful black administrators derive their puppet status from the from the apartheid regime and not from any democratic vote by the citizen of the Bantustans (ANC archives, Oliver Tambo Papers, 1987).

Second, the apartheid regime soon realized that the approach of providing additional land could not be sustained and the demands from the Bantustan leaders became huge and the buying of such land cost exorbitant amounts. Complicating this was also the daunting challenges of environmental degradation faced by the Bantustans. Third, with this scramble for territorial extension, from some Bantustans emerged conflicts and tensions over the domination of such territories. The work by Laurine Platzky and Cherry Walker on The Surplus People Project features prominently, based on the following two reasons: first, the project highlights the cosmetic nature of how the apartheid regime dealt with the extension of lands to the Bantustans through its settlement policy. Second, this extension of land to Bantustans should be understood within a central support in the structure of apartheid. Therefore, this purported extension of land was a deliberate pursuit of land dispossession of African South Africans. With the above ‘dangling of land’ to Bantustan leaders, the latter were generally too scared to resist this ‘divide-and-rule’ strategy by the regime.

Territorial extension: the ‘grand’ design and economic growth.

With the developments of ‘dorpies’ (small towns) in the areas adjacent to the Bantustans, there existed clear differences on the standpoints of the apartheid regime. Accordingly, the apartheid regime viewed separate development policy as an ethnically acceptable alternative to multiracialism which it totally rejected. The apartheid regime was convinced that South Africa did not consist of ‘one nation’ but was a ‘multinational’ state. To give these Bantustans industrialization ‘freedom’, Verwoerd remained adamant that White industrialists should not be allowed in the Bantustans, except on advisory capacity only.

Therefore, to mitigate against the above, Verwoerd initiated the ingenious border area policy which allowed White-controlled factories on the borders of the Bantustans and not inside. With this, the apartheid regime hoped to create jobs for the inhabitants of the Bantustans. Interestingly, initially, most of the apartheid regime’s economic efforts in the Bantustans were directed to the agricultural fronts. According to Vincent Khapoya, ‘the policy of territorial homelands flows directly from that of white supremacy. This policy intimates essentially that each Bantu ethnic group has its own homeland, and that the White minority government has the duty to guide these homelands to the point where they can assume political independence as sovereign states’ (Khapoya, 1980: 28; Evans, 2012: 117-137).

Axel J Halbach (1988: 519-520) argued against the establishment of so-called border industries and claimed that this process had little to no effect on the developments of the Bantustans. He also lamented the point about the project of industrialization of the Bantustans themselves on an ‘agency basis’ turned out to be almost a total failure. On 1 April 1982, decentralization incentives were put into place, amongst others included: transport rebates from 40% to 60%; cash grants of 80% to 95% of total wages for a period of seven years with a maximum for worker of R30 to R110 per month; interest subsidy for a period of 10 years for industrial buildings between 15% and 80% as well as for private dwellings between 20% and 60% of the interest paid; subsidy on electricity to reach the corresponding level in established industrial areas; subsidies for training courses for the black work-force in as far as formal training is concerned; compensation of relocation costs up to a certain amount; and granting of a 4% to 10% price advantage with regard to state tenders. Some progress was made with the provision of employment for the inhabitants of the Bantustans in the small towns’ industries.

As it will be discussed later in this paper, the apartheid regime offered many generous concessions to the White industrialists residing in the smaller towns adjacent to the Bantustans. Criticizing the apartheid system in general and the purported misconception of development by the regime, Bertil Egero describes the Bantustans as ‘the cornerstone of separate development under apartheid’ (Egero, 1997: 7). In essence Egero was against the ironic ambiguity of the racial conceptions and undertones of ‘development’ by the apartheid regime. We tend to agree with Egero that this ‘development’ was designed to perpetuate separation of Bantu from Whites. Contrary to the above, Verwoerd argued that giving Bantustans additional land and economic ‘independence’ would allow them not to be contaminated but remain racially and ethnically pure. However, Verwoerd’s successor, Vorster differed with him as he was prepared to see White industrialists establishing themselves inside the Bantustans.

He opined that this approach was a prerequisite for Bantustans’ economic growth. With this, Vorster conceded that he had inherited Verwoerd’s political rejection of a permanent sub-ordinate status for Bantu, in favour of separate development. He refined the policy by declaring that with his approach, the Bantustans would enjoy the same sort of independence as Botswana, Lesotho, and Swaziland (BNA, South Africa: Policies, 1968/9). Agreeing with the above, Piet Koornhof, one time Minister of Immigration states: ‘The best tonic for Bantustan development is a mixture of White capital and Black labour’ (Financial Mail, 17 October 1969). Concerning the above, Oliver Nyambi and Rodwell Makombe refer to the Bantustans as telling sites and symbols of what they term ‘domestic colonialism’. They write: ‘The Bantustans exhibit many socio-economic and political realities and complexes traceable to apartheid’s defining tenets, philosophies and methods of constructing and sustaining racial power’ (Nyambi and Makombe, 2019).

Dorpies as territorial expansion for economic growth: economic spin-offs of small towns.

Although from the outset, the Bantustan leaders were promised economic growth should they accept ‘independence’ from the apartheid regime, there existed contrary evidence to this. For example, as early as 5 November 1969, in Britain, the Prime Minister of the Federated Chamber of Industries issued a statement indicating: ‘The people in the homelands cannot go faster than their own pace, and in the circumstances, development is going as fast as possible’ (BNA, South Africa: Bantustan, 1968/9). This statement signaled the ‘hidden agenda’ by the architects of the Bantustan system supported by countries such as Britain to not fully invest in the economic growth of these Bantustans. Minister of Bantu Administration and Development MC Botha echoed the same sentiments by asserting: ‘It is a very dangerous and acceptable idea to want, on the one hand to send the Bantu back to the homelands and on the other hand for white public not to be willing to provide the help and leadership necessary to raise the capability of the Bantu there’ (BNA, South Africa: Bantustan, 1968/9).

Development of the industries in the ‘dorpies’; surrounding the Bantustans served as a supplementary means for the realization of the ultimate ideal, that of enforcing separate developments as the cornerstone of the divide-and-rule strategy of the regime. These ‘dorpies’ generated new forms of politics amongst what could be regarded as new constituencies for Bantustan leaders, as well as the regime. Equally, they also provided political spaces for Black Consciousness (BC) mobilization in the 1970s and the United Democratic Front (UDF)/ANC organizations in the 1980s (Gibbs, 2010). Even though the growth of the ‘dorpies’ adjacent to Bantustans was the initiative of the regime, it remained skeptical about the more economic powers these ‘dorpies’ could have.

On 14 October 1969, the Minister of Mines and Planning, C de Wet reminded that Business Outlook Conference of the National Development and Management Foundation in Johannesburg that the development of Bantustans and the small towns should fit in with South Africa’s social development pattern. He argued that this was to be in line with the South African Physical Planning Act aimed not at curtailing the ‘white spots’ industrial expansion, but rather, ensure the geographical development to maximize the material and social welfare of all South Africans, including those in Bantustans (BNA, South Africa: Bantustan, 1968/9).

Halbach (1988: 508) was not confident with the approach to making the Bantustans economically viable. He notes:

From an economic viewpoint, however, they have remained overcrowded, peripheral, and poverty-stricken regions despite some attempts at development. This economic significance has been reduced more and more to that of a labour reservoir and a dumping ground for surplus labour, which in effect has always been an implicit role. Without real economic and political reforms such as free movement of capital, labour, and settlement within a framework of a less state-controlled free enterprise economy, it will probably be impossible for the homelands to free themselves from the vicious circle of political powerlessness and economic calamity.

During the late 1960s, the regime showed considerable determination to achieve economic progress but made it clear that there were limits to the concession to be made. The then Prime Minister noted: ‘I am convinced that while we must help develop the homelands with the aid of white capital, we dare not give permanency and property rights in the homelands … if this is done, it would destroy the whole moral basis of separate development in South Africa’ (BNA, South Africa, 1968/9). This statement was a clear indication that the regime never intended to let go any piece of land to Bantustans without laying any claim and subtle jurisdiction over it. Again, on 5 November 1969, Chairperson of the Bantu Investment Corporation, SP du Toit Viljoen stated that White entrepreneurs would be invited on a fixed contract basis for a minimum of 25 years. Explaining this further and adding another controversial dimension, he alluded: ‘For more sophisticated type of industry which could not be taken over by Africans in 25 years, contract would be longer’ (BNA, South Africa, 1968/9).

Apartheid-Bantustans policy of leniency for economic growth

In a smokescreen for the compensation of the Bantustan workforce that was used in the white areas, Koornhof, firstly, proposed the imposition of a ‘development tax’ on the industrialists in these neighbouring white areas for migratory Bantustan workers into such areas. He proposed payment per head for each Bantustan worker used in the white areas (BNA, 1968/9, South Africa). Secondly, from the regime’s side, the Industrial Conciliation Act was to be suspended for the Bantustan workers. This, the apartheid regime argued, will make it possible for white employers to take no account of job reservation which existed in South Africa. This meant that in the Bantustans, an Bantu worker would be able to execute a job which, if he were in the white area of South Africa, would be reserved for a White employee. Thirdly, the suspension of wage determination was also viewed by the Bantustan leaders as a progressive move. With this, the regime argued that the workers would not have to observe the age norms prevailing in white South Africa, as they would be governed by the new norms of the Department of Bantu Administration and Development or the local Bantustan authority under their guidance (BNA, 1968/9, South Africa).

On 20 November 1969 in Durban, Botha announced the new concessions for enterprises which were going to affect Bantustans and the neighbouring ‘dorpies’. In line with the establishment of economic growth points, amongst other things, these enterprises included the following: first, a price preference to a maximum of 10% would be allowed to Bantustan industrialists in relation to contracts with the Department of Bantu Administration and Development. The implication was that such industrialists would get the contract, as long their price was not more that 10% higher than that of their competitors outside the Bantustans. Second, the regime intended to also subsidize transport for White personnel between the Bantustan growth points and the adjacent or nearest white towns. Third, land was to be made available to the Bantu Industrial Corporation (BIC) near these growth point towns for the development of the townships. In return, such growth would also benefit the Whites. As for rent, the latter would have to pay only 4% of the building and service costs (BNA. 1968/9, South Africa).

For the regime, focusing on the growth points of these growth point towns outside the Bantustans, in the long run, had the potential of eroding the envisaged growth of the Bantustans themselves. If the Bantustans ‘citizens’ were working in these towns, in most cases, the chances were that they would spend their hard-earned wages and salaries there, rather than in the Bantustans, as they would be spending much time there for work purposes. Thus, boosting the economies of these towns rather than those of Bantustans.

The rise of the white capital in the TBVC states and their extended territories through apartheid economic growth policy

This section of the paper deals in-depth with the rise of white capital and capitalists under the pretext of nurturing economic growth of the TBVC states and their extended territories.

The White’s involvement in the Bantustan Development Corporations was not surprising as they became Board Members and became influential in the distribution of money to the public sector. Initially, this aimed at providing economic boost for the areas around the Bantustans, but this elicited negative results, as major contractual work was done by those from the White areas and associated with the apartheid regime. Viewed from this context, this proved to be counterproductive as these Whites had their hands in managing the budgets and privileges associated with the Bantustans. Commenting on the above, Herman Giliomee (1985) puts it succinctly: ‘Homelands would in effect become dumping grounds not only for the unemployed but for the politically disaffected and would thereby perform the function of ‘ruralizing’ the revolution’. Except being board members, White Afrikaner males were seconded into the Bantustans to manage their affairs as Head of Departments. This gave the regime an upper hand in politically and economically controlling the Bantustans (Twala, 2018: 78-100).

The Transkei was the first Bantustan to obtain ‘independence’ from the apartheid regime in 1976. This ‘independence’ came under the Transkei National Independence Party (TNIP) led by Paramount Chief Kaizer Matanzima as the leader. This party and its leader were supportive of the regime’s objectives of using Transkei as a model of advancing this pseudo-independence. Despite having been accorded this status, the regime continued and maintained control over Transkei. In justification of the above, Adolf Stone (1969: 30) maintained that the entire structure of the Transkei government rested on the loyalty of the tribes to the chiefs and ultimately on the apartheid regime. In the case of Transkei, the major focus was upon Umtata, the territorial capital, and Butterworth where government incentives were made available to attract local and foreign industrial investors. This also led to the establishment of the Xhosa Development Corporation (XDC) and later the Transkei Development Corporations (TDC). Laura Phillips (2017), one of the leading scholars on Bantustan history argued that these development corporations unfortunately created space for the emergence of capitalists and taking-over formerly white-owned businesses.

In the Transkei, Butterworth and Umtata, the capital of the Transkei, were still zoned into White and Black sections. Butterworth was still partly a White area within the Transkei. It was, therefore, not surprising that the latter two growth points were in African areas, which would technically fall into the Bantustan zones. Although this was purportedly aimed at bringing economic growth to these areas, at the same time, the opportunity was ceased and exploited by White entrepreneurs who commuted freely from White areas and doing business in the Bantustans. With the granting of ‘independence’ by the apartheid regime, a new institutional environment emerged which resulted in the Transkei focusing on casino tourism which translated into gambling when it was not permitted in South Africa. The growth of casino tourism in the Transkei and Bophuthatswana contributed to corruption which occurred between South African tourism capital and the leadership of the Bantustan (Sixaba and Rogerson, 2023: 1; Rogerson and Rogerson, 2023: 1-16). This was also confirmed by John Aerni-Flessner (2014: 47-67) by stating that the apartheid regime supported tourism ventures like Transkei branches.

In Bophuthatswana, a weird extension of land existed. The ‘enclaves’ were scattered across the country with allegiance to the Bophuthatswana’s government under Lucas Mangope. This Bantustan had seven ‘enclaves’ under its jurisdiction. The territories constituted of a scattered ‘patchwork of enclaves’ spread across what was then the Cape Province; Orange Free State; and Transvaal. Its seat of government was Mmabatho. Industrial development in the 12 magisterial districts of Bophuthatswana started in 1970. By 31 March 1977 there were more than 80 factories, employing 8 600 people representing a capital investment of R66.1 million. The Bophuthatswana National Development Corporation (BNDC) and the Corporation for Economic Development (previously known as the Bantu Investment Corporation) were the chief bodies responsible for attracting and expanding the industrial sector (Hattingh, 1977: 213-219). On the above, the White entrepreneurs benefitted despite undertones of the regime that the Bantustans and the adjacent areas should be the only beneficiaries. Temba near Hammanskraal (north of Pretoria was part of Bophuthatswana), was the first target of intrusion by the White entrepreneurs around the area.

Like in the case of Transkei, Bophuthatswana also attracted many people to gamble in the territory as that was permitted. Andrew Manson and Bernard Mbenga (2014: 164) write:

From the very time of its conception in 1978 Sun City was fraught with controversy. Exploiting the opportunity created by Bophuthatswana as a state ‘independent’ from South Africa at the height of efforts to isolate the country, Sol Kerzner, already an established mogul in the entertainment industry, constructed a resort that might attract many of the world’s top-class entertainers. Simultaneously, Sun City could provide the hidden fruits of gambling, pornography and illicit sex denied to South Africans by their Calvinistic and authoritarian government.

In another work published by Manson and Mbenga (2010: 672), they highlight the dearth of industrialization and how deepening corruption was under Mangope:

Mangope treated Mmabatho, his capital, as a personal fiefdom, lavishing it with imposing public buildings, while the rural periphery was relatively under-developed, though certain nodes, provided they offered no opposition, also benefitted from this construction. This had two consequences; firstly, it saw the construction of a large number of ‘white elephants’, and secondly it opened up doors to a spate of profligate corruption. Among the worst examples were the Mmabatho stadium and the convention centre, and a R250 million power station at Skilpadfontein which could not operate because, incredibly, no agreement had been reached to mine the coal reserves on which the station was supposed to run.

The above two examples explain how many of the Bantustans created national development initiatives which in the end became ‘milking cows’ for those who wielded political powers in the territories. Although acts of corruption were disputed by all those in power, corruption in many of these Bantustans was endemic and those who dared to criticize the leadership were dealt with harshly. Pires Sean Jones (1997: 155-159) mentions that to create the trappings of imaginary sovereignty by these Bantustan leaders, most created ‘national’ developments corporations to pursue economic projects that could be branded ‘national’ endeavors.

Venda was one of the four ‘independent’ states in South Africa under the leadership of Chief Minister, Patrick Mphephu. The establishment of Venda Bantustan with self-governing status and later ‘independence’ was full of controversies. One example of this was the April 1976 National Assembly debates in South Africa when Helen Suzman asked the Minister of Bantu Administration and Development the following: What is the total area of the Venda homeland and how many separate areas does it consist of? What will be the final area of the homeland and how many areas will it consist of? What is the total number of Venda citizens and how many of them are permanently resident in the homeland? How many of the economically active citizens are working in and outside the homeland? The Minister diplomatically dismissed the asked questions by indicating that there were no final answers to be given on the questions asked (Hansard, 26 April 1976: 884).

It should be noted that the constitutional development of this Bantustan was initiated long ago with the 1913 and 1936 Land Acts which set aside land dedicated to Africans. With the introduction of the local government system in 1951 and the 1962 territorial authorities, Mphephu became the first chairperson. Like in many other Bantustans, in 1971, LA was constituted for Venda. This was a step towards the institution of ‘independence’ for this Bantustan. The Executive power is vested in the Chief Minister who was also referred to as the ‘executive president’. Mphephu had powers to appoint nine Ministers from the members of the National Assembly. Ironically, the Ministers oversee the 19 government departments and two state corporations, namely, the Venda Development Corporation (VDC) and the Venda Agricultural Corporation.

Under Mphephu, electoral malpractice and corruption became rampant but continued to enjoy support from his Venda constituencies. To show his might and underhand in the affairs of Venda as a Bantustan, in 1983 he was declared ‘Life President’ of Venda. Being obsessed with power and the support he enjoyed from the apartheid regime, it was not surprising when in August 1986 Mphephu declared Venda a one-party state, allegedly because of the adverse effect of the practicing of party politics. He also unleashed a reign of terror to all those who criticized his governance, thus, people were subjected to detention without trial, a similar method practiced by the apartheid regime in South Africa. Mphephu had masterminded the art of politics as a political game changer in Venda. Initially, Venda started as a self-governing state with only six departments, namely, Chief Minister and Finance; Interior; Works; Education; Justice; and Agriculture and Forestry with the Legislative Assembly (LA) in Sibasa.

Showing his political maneuvering, in 1978, he pushed for the 1973 Proclamation R12 to be amended to increase the number of seats in the LA from 18 to 42. The proclamation gave 12 elected seats to the electoral division of Sibasa. The implication for this was that the total number of LA members went up from 60 to 84. Political contestation in this Bantustan was between the Venda Independent Peoples’ Party (VIPP) and Mphephu’s one, Venda National Party (VNP). The latter was instrumentally used by Mphephu to also mobilize the traditional leaders to be on his side (Makhari, 1991: 39; Nevondo, 2000: 67). To effectively reduce the unemployment crisis in Venda, the Bantustan authorities tried to raise the standard of living and develop the region by establishing the VDC in 1979. This was followed in 1982 by the establishment of the Agricultural Development Corporation of Venda. Both these institutions collectively became known as Venda National Development Corporation (VNDC) with the former charged with urban and industrial development and the latter with rural development.

Their mandate was to initiate several projects and programmes throughout the Bantustans were initiated by these corporations throughout Venda. One notable and successful project was the emergence of the partnership between the former Agricultural Corporation of Venda (Agriven) representing the ‘government’ of Venda on one hand, and Sapekoe, a private company, on the other, in establishing Tshivhase Tea Estate near Duthuni, somewhat 11 kilometres north-west of Sibasa (Adjei, 1995:4). It was interesting to note the VDC had its journal called Shuma (meaning work). This journal became Mphephu’s mouthpiece in highlighting the successes of the VDC (National Archives, COD – 0065-0133a -009). On the industrialization side, there were also concerns about the involvement of Whites in this regard. In one instance, a University of the Orange Free State (UOFS) Economics Professor Jan Lange was tasked with an ambitious scheme for the establishment of an industrial park at Venda.

The industrial park that would be the first of its kind in the Bantustans, would be a combination of various light industrial plants, a training centre and control service unit. The latter would provide common technical, purchasing, and administrative facilities, thus giving industries the advantages of economics of scale and converting to viable costs what would otherwise be fixed costs. With this scheme, Lange reckons this could mean 1000 new jobs for Venda. The cost for setting up the scheme was estimated at R2.5 million of which R1 million was already promised by the South African Bantu Trust (Financial Mail, 14 May 1976). We contend here that it was predictable that the main beneficiaries of this scheme would mainly be the White South Africans. The project being led by a White male Afrikaner from South Africa was destined to have little financial benefits for the Venda people. For example, according to Lange, he had plans to attract firms already operating in other areas to send semi-manufactured materials to Sibasa for further processing.

Railways had already agreed to provide daily 3 mechanical horses and 7 semi-trailers to carry goods to and from the Reef at 11.75c per kilogram. Furthermore, he also claimed to have lined up about 10 manufacturers, mainly in the large manufacturing engineering field, willing to use the industrial park as part of their production lines. The work to be done in Sibasa would include stamping, drilling, metal-forming, and assembling (Financial Mail, 14 May 1976). Another important challenge to the Venda government was the permanency status of the Whites as residence of this Bantustan. The Minister of Interior, T. Netshimdupse had indicated earlier when introducing the establishment of the Venda capital town that Whites would be allowed to be only visitors in the town and not permanent residence as it was in the past. These sentiments were echoed further by the opposition leader Baldwin Mudau of the Venda Independence People’s Party who also showed dissatisfaction of the Whites residing in Venda permanently. Quoted by the Rand Daily Mail of the 14 May 1975, he noted:

Whites should not be allowed to stay permanently in their homeland. The residence of the Venda cabinet ministers should be switched from the mosquito-infested valley of the homeland to the hillsides where the White officials stayed. Every time I see the nice houses of the Whites there my heart bleeds. Let us stop this White permanency in the Black homelands.

In 1981 when Ciskei accepted ‘independence’ under the leadership of the Chief Minister Lennox Sebe, ambitiously, he spelt out plans to make the territory economically and politically vibrant. Included in his goals were the following: the establishment of a ‘free society’ whereby the Ciskei people would live in peace and harmony; introducing ‘sound democratic’ governance; and to establish a sound economic base by investing in agriculture and industries (Cadman, 1986: 7). The Ciskei was no different from the others regarding economic growth and the extension of the territories. It is interesting to note that by 1973 the territory had only two small factories situated in Alice and employed a small number of people. However, by 1986 there were almost 22 000 industrial workers in the Ciskei employed in over 100 small factories. This industrialization was explained by scholars such as Alan Hirsch as an ‘economic miracle’ to ever have happened in the Bantustans.

In providing an academic explanation for this, Hirsch identified three phases associated with this economic boom. The first phase was between 1974 and 1978 which experienced economic growth characterized by the establishment of small and labour-intensive factories. The success of this phase was its dependence on the loans granted by the Ciskei National Development Corporation and the Corporation for Economic Development (Hirsch, 1986: 14-15).

According to Hirsch, the second phase was the introduction of the early 1980s regional development strategy which boosted decentralisation incentives in general and ultimately benefiting the Ciskei. This strategy led to the Anglo-American; De Beers; the Durch Van Leer; and the Taiwanese factories in Ciskei. These factories set up labour intensive clothing, textile, and metalworking plants. In a period of three years, the number of factories and industrial jobs in the Ciskei increased by more than 200% and 400%. Incentives provided by the Ciskei government contributed to the massive increase of factories and attracted investors.

Another factor was the availability of cheap unorganized labour in the Bantustan. The high rate of unemployment made people shy away from trade unions. This was also complicated by the fact that the Ciskei government banned all trade union activities. On this Hirsch (1986: 16) elaborates:

Wages in the Ciskei are generally pegged at around 50 percent of East London levels, which are in turn about 25 percent below South Africa’s national average … Trade unions were never actually allowed to operate in the Ciskei and SAAWU was officially banned in 1983. Ironically, trade unions grew in strength across the border in East London during the early 1980s. Consequently, several East London firms either moved some operations into the Ciskei or, as in the case of Western Province Preserving, moved the whole factory across the border.

The above-mentioned incentives which led to the Ciskei’s economic boom, also became beneficial to small towns such as Dimbaza which housed many of the newly established factories in the Ciskei Bantustan. By the late 1970s, undercapitalised plants came and invested in the town and attracted an influx of unemployed people. Due to the abundance of job opportunities, Hirsch estimates that between 1979 and 1985, the population of this town grew from 12 000 to 50 000. As it happened in other Bantustans discussed here above, Ciskei’s generosity was not immune from abuse and exploitation by unscrupulous entrepreneurs who wanted to make quick profit. The companies masterminded the trick of claiming more for incentives as they employed more workers. Hirsch explains this abuse and corruption by Disa/Engelhardt at Mdantsane which submitted to the Ciskei government a proposal in 1984 to employ 2 510 workers, of whom 2 470 were to be black Ciskeians. However, by September that year, 3 190 were employed. The companies put pressure on the managing director to increase the numbers to 5 000 by November 1984. This unbecoming behaviour allowed them to claim the huge numbers of employees and paid them considerably less as compared to what they would be claiming from government. Thus, pocketing the difference (Hisrch, 1986: 17).

The third phase was when the Ciskei government decided to deal with the above corruption by appointing the commission of inquiry known as the Swart Commission. After a thorough investigation, the commission made the following recommendations: the exemption of small industries (employing less than 20 people) from all existing laws and regulations other than those existing in a simple Companies Act; the abolition of all company taxes; and the deregistration of controls over conditions of work, health, and pollution of all businesses (Hirsch, 1986: 18). By 1984, after some land expansion for the Ciskei Bantustan, it covered an area of 755 990 hectares inhabited by a population of about 912 161. Contributing factors to the population increase were attributed to high birth rates; continued resettlement of Ciskei people from the white areas of South Africa; and the return migration from white rural areas (Cadman, 1986: 7).

5. Conclusion

In the early 1970s, politicians in South Africa, both African and White were convinced that by way of agricultural development and industrial decentralisation, the Bantustans would be self-sustainable and economically attractive to those who resided outside these territories. We argued in this article that although this sounded lucrative, these developments had little benefits for the Bantustans and the extended territories adjacent to them. With the territorial extension of the Bantustans, the above shows that the purported Bantu area development was being promoted by means of two significant channels, namely, the Bantu entrepreneurs themselves, and by institutions of the apartheid regime acting as guardians of the Bantustan population. It should also be noted that the process of territorial extension was slow, thus, impacting on economic growth of the Bantustans. Initially, only a fair number of light industries had been developed, mainly through the initiatives of the development corporations. Therefore, by dangling territorial extension to induce the White industrialists in participating in the economic development of the Bantustans proved to have succeeded.

However, as shown in this article, more benefits were directed to the Whites entrepreneurs at the expense of the African ones. The benefits for White industrialists included amongst others, subsidized transport; availability of cheap labour from the Bantustans; low-rate interest loans for buildings and machinery over the long term; tax concessions; supply of infrastructure and essential services such as electricity, and water and buildings for renting purposes. The diversion of political aspirations to the so-called development of the Bantustans was just a smokescreen from the apartheid regime to keep South Africa white. The politically connected elites in the Bantustans, particularly those connected to the apartheid regime assumed political and power positions. These powers led to some Bantustan leaders becoming repressive to those who dare to challenge them.

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1	In detail, the Bantu Authorities Act 68, of 1951 provided for the establishment of certain black authorities and to define their function, to abolish the Black Representative Council, to amend the Black Affairs Act of 1920, and the Representation of Black Act of 1936, and to provide for other incidental matter.
2	For this article, the term ‘Bantu’ should not be regarded as derogatory as it was the case later in South Africa. It is used within the context of the period into which the article is situated.
3	The apartheid regime shifted the official terminology in the 1950s, from Native Reserves to Homelands. Critics of the regime referred derisively to the territories as Bantustans since they were established under the Bantu Authorities Act. These territories which became known as Bantustans, lacked legitimacy as they were a creation of the apartheid regime. The main idea was to separate the Africans from Whites and give the former responsibilities of running their own so-called ‘independent’ governments. This was also an attempt to deny them any residential rights in what was called the ‘White spots’ of South Africa, thus leaving ample land to what became known as ‘White South Africa’. The term ‘Bantustans’ means ‘Bantu States’ and used by policy makers and administrators interchangeably with ‘Homelands’. These Bantustans were purported to be ‘sovereign states’ without any legal standing.
4	In this paper, ‘white’ refers to light-coloured people with European ancestry. We try at all costs to stick to the term ‘white’.
5	The Tomlinson Commission’s Report of 1955 which remained the economic blueprint for the Bantustans, estimated that, when the ‘native’ land had been acquired, it would compromise some 13.7 of South Africa. It placed emphasis on the industrial as well as the agricultural development of the Bantustans and estimated that, if the Bantustans were developed on the recommended line, they could support a population of about 10 million in 25 to 30 years. Furthermore, it recommended that to provide additional employment and decentralized White industry, industries were to set up ‘within’ or near to the Bantustans.

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