Afr.j. polit. sci. (1999), Vol. 4 No. 1, 99-126 
Chiefs And Rural Local Government 
In Post-Apartheid South Africa 
Fred Hendricks* and Lungisile Ntsebeza** 
Introduction 
Colonialism caused fundamental damage to the role of chiefs. It disturbed the preexisting 
redistributive lineage system, undermined the foundation for the existence 
of chiefs and limited their tradition-based and personalised form of authority. It 
transformed chiefs from independent representatives of various people into 
government officials, appointed by the new colonial power and paid a salary. Shorn 
of their judicial power and prevented from performing their traditional functions, 
their pre-existing worlds of authority were dwarfed by the overpowering force of 
the colonial state. In broad terms, this depiction of the impact of colonialism on 
indigenous forms of authority may strike a chord of familiarity. Yet it presents only 
a partial picture. If indeed chieftaincy was robbed of the internal dynamics vital to 
the autonomy of chiefs, how is it that they have survived for so very long? If part 
of the reason for this longevity of chieftaincy is the fact that some chiefs had 
become co-opted into the local arm of the colonial state how does one explain the 
persistence of their apparent legitimacy? This paper will provide some tentative 
answers to these questions by attempting to paint a fuller picture of the various and 
changing roles of chiefs in the context of an emerging democratic order in the 
former bantustans of the Eastern Cape. 
Irrespective of the fact that a large number of chiefs became colonial stooges, 
and despite the fact that many rural residents would be hard pressed to provide a 
precise definition of the contemporary role for chiefs in ademocratic South Africa, 
chiefs have been recognised in the country's Constitution of 1996 as well as in 
legislation affecting the former Reserve Areas. This recognition causes tension and 
inconsistency in the Constitution. On the one hand, the Constitution enshrines 
democratic principles in the Bill of Rights while on the other, it acknowledges the 
role of unelected traditional authorities. There are large disparities between rights
100 Fred Hendricks and Lungisile Ntsebeza 
enshrined in the Constitution and the possibilities that people have at theirdisposal 
for enforcing those rights. Besides this practical dilemma, the principle of traditional 
authority and the manner in which it contradicts the basic premises of 
democratic rule needs to be explored. Recognising chiefs has a number of farreaching 
implications for gender equality, for control over land allocation, for the 
universal franchise and for democratic local government. Chiefly authority is 
ascribed by lineage rather than achieved through election, its patriarchal principles 
ensure that it almost invariably passes to men Only, and it rests on the premise of 
exclusivity inherent in chiefly power over the allocation of land solely to eligible 
members. Recognising chiefs also raises questions about the constituencies that 
chiefs are supposed to represent and about the possibilities for putting the rhetoric 
of building a nation into practice. After all, if one grants chiefs some recognition 
does that not amount to an implicit endorsement of tribes and tribalism? How does 
this blend with the notion of a united nation? Is it possible to recognise chiefs 
outside a tribal constituency? In addition, does a national framework of democracy 
necessarily guarantee democracy at the local level or do the local alliances 
especially in the former Reserves reinforce undemocratic and traditional forms of 
domination? 
The picture would not be complete if we did not emphasise that various chiefs 
responded differently to colonisation. While some attempted to bargain for better 
terms of their submission, others sought to struggle in a variety of ways for a 
measure of local power and autonomy. While some managed to adapt to 
changing circumstances others who failed to do so became thoroughly 
discredited. It is our contention that an understanding of these variations is vital 
for an analysis of the current position of chiefs in relation to the emerging system 
of rural local government under the new Constitution. It is also argued that the 
implementation of Bantu Authorities in local government severely restricted the 
scope of this variation as chiefs became firmly enlisted in the local arm of the 
central state. Thus, the paper provides some historical background to the roles of 
traditional authorities in governing indigenous people under successive colonial 
administrations. 
The perspective of the paper is not a simplistic unilinear or progressivist one, 
suggesting that the pre-existing forms of social authority conformed neatly to 
Weber's (1947: 83-84) "ideal type" of traditional authority and the bureaucratic 
and impersonal authority of colonialism to his conception of rational-legal authority. 
On the contrary, the paper tries to demonstrate that the meeting of the two 
institutions encompassed a much more complex interpenetration. Quite clearly, 
colonialism was the dominant partner in this exchange since it wrenched away 
even the limited monopoly over the use of force which some chiefs may have had 
prior to their subordination. But chieftaincies persisted despite their defeat. In fact, 
even though the thinly spread magistrates wielded much more power, the prestige
Chiefs and Rural Local Government in Post-Apartheid South Africa 101 
of some chiefs lingered on. In other areas, the influence of chiefs waned to the 
extent that they were viewed as an anachronism by the mass of the people. 
In a situation of such variation and difference, it is hazardous to attempt to 
generalise about the role of chiefs. This is not to imply that nothing can be said 
about the role of traditional authorities in general, but rather to insist on an 
acceptance of the regional variations, the historically specific policies and the 
uneven pace of their implementation. A general question in this connection is how 
chiefs have managed to survive with some credibility notwithstanding the ignominy 
of Bantu Authorities during the heyday of apartheid. But chiefs have done 
more than merely survive. Their revival in the late 1980s and consolidation in the 
early 1990s has led to a self-assured political posture - no doubt buttressed by the 
ANC strategy of inciting opposition to apartheid on as broad a front as possible and 
encouraged by some of the public statements made by President Mandela in this 
regard. Even the formerly discredited chiefs jumped onto the bandwagon of 
CONTRALES A (Congress of Traditional Leaders of South Africa), the organisation 
formed to express chiefly resistance to apartheid. Thus chiefs have demonstrated 
a remarkable resilience in the face of enormous odds. Opportunism is clearly part 
of the political game which they have learnt to play with breathtaking agility. But 
they have also been allowed the space to emerge as a political force by the 
pragmatic anti-apartheid alliance in which they became a partner. 
There are two levels at which we engage the issue concerning the role of chiefs. 
First, at the level of principle, we discuss traditional authority in relation to the 
broad precepts of democracy. Second, at a pragmatic level, we discuss the viability 
and feasibility of implementing local government legislation while recognising 
chiefs. It is one thing to say that traditional authorities contradict the basic 
principles of democracy and quite another to attempt to build democratic institutions 
of popular participation in the context of the former bantustans of the Eastern 
Cape. Thus the paper deals with both the principle and practice of democratic local 
government in relation to the role of chiefs. It commences with a brief overview 
of the evolution of chiefly power vis a vis the changing nature of colonial policy; 
it goes on to provide an account of local government policies since 1994; highlights 
the enormous problems involved in implementing these policies. Finally, we 
assesses the actual and envisaged role of chiefs in local government as well as their 
responses to these policies. 
The Shifting Basis of Chiefly Power 
Shepstone's segregationist policy of indirect rule, bolstering the power of chiefs, 
keeping blacks and whites apart, denying the former access to colonial law and 
promoting customary law in Reserves, was clearly a precursor to latter day 
apartheid (Davenport, 1987: 112-115; Mamdani, 1996: 67-69). There were however 
a variety of other influences in its evolution. This paper argues that the Cape
102 Fred Hendricks and Lungisile Ntsebeza 
councillor system also fed into the overall segregationist project. Following the 
military defeat of independent chiefs, Cecil John Rhodes' Glen Grey Act of 1894 
was a major legislative attempt to systematically curtail the authority of chiefs by 
replacing them with a system of government-appointed district councillors and 
introducing separate Reserve Areas under a distorted version of the communal 
system of land tenure. The Act had a number of purposes and a range of 
contradictory effects. The introduction of the district council system of local 
government was meant to steer Africans away from the Cape franchise to a form 
of separate political representation. It was a forerunner of the more all-encompassing 
segregationist and apartheid measures, especially the creation of territorially 
separate areas for African occupation - the Reserves. 
The Act was also intended to drive labour off the land by introducing a peculiar 
form of communal tenure. Often the land provisions of the Act are interpreted as 
an extension of individual tenure to "tribal" areas of communal tenure (Beinart, 
1982: 43; Davenport, 1987: 181; Hammond-Tooke, 1975: 87; Lacey, 1981: 15; 
Southall, 1983:76;Stadler, 1987:39). On closerexamination, the provisions of the 
Act on the policy of "one-man-one lot", the division of the land into four or five 
morgen allotments (excluding, of course, any land that may be reserved for mineral 
exploitation or government usage); the fact that land held in this manner would not 
qualify the holder for the franchise; the restrictions placed on the alienation of land 
and the liability to forfeiture in the event of non-beneficial occupation resembles 
the distorted version of the communal system which came to operate in the 
Reserves rather than individual tenure in the sense of freehold title. In addition, if 
the councils represented the initiation of a system of separate political institutions 
for blacks, then it appears reasonable that the land policy would endorse that 
segregation rather than contradict it through the extension of individual 
tenure. The evidence clearly does not support the contention that the Act had 
anything to do with individual tenure. In fact there was nothing individual about 
the Glen Grey brand of land tenure except that the land would be in the possession 
of one holder, exactly as it is now held under certificate of occupation in the former 
bantustans. 
The distortion of the communal system was crucial for undermining the position 
of the chiefs. It also facilitated the emergence of a class of people who were 
independent of chiefs and desirous of a "civilised status" even if title under the new 
provisions did not qualify landholders to the franchise. Rhodes was umambigious 
on this (cited in Jaffe, 1), which is an indication of his early segregationist thinking, 
I will lay down my own policy on this native question. Either you have to 
receive them on an equal footing as citizens, or to call them a subject race. 
I have made up my mind that there must be class legislation, there must be 
Pass Laws and Peace Preservation Acts, and that we have to treat Natives,
Chiefs and Rural Local Government in Post-Apartheid South Africa 103 
where they are in a state of barbarism, in a different way to ourselves. We 
are to be lords over them. 
In his recent book, Citizen and Subject, Mamdani (1996) chose to refer to 
Smuts' role in the emergence of segregationist policies and in the manner in which 
the state was bifurcated . He could have done worse than to focus on the role of 
Rhodes in this process. While the labour and land provisions of the Act had little 
direct practical effect, its political component, embodied in the council system 
became a model for separate representation in the Reserves Areas. Indeed, one of 
its purposes was the creation of such reserves, as Rose-Innes (1936: 33) outlines: 
The principles of the Act necessarily involve the creation of purely Native 
Reserves or areas from which Europeans are excluded by purchase or 
otherwise. This principle must be maintained against every species of 
opposition ... We shall in time be compelled to create more of such areas 
as "reservoirs of labour" and homes for these people into which the Native 
will be free to come and go. He requires this for his sake and we require it 
for our own. 
Ultimately, the policy options of incorporating Africans into the political and 
social institutions of the colony, or preserving the shattered fabric of the indigenous 
mode of living in order to keep them apart from colonial institutions, would 
determine the role of the chiefs. Notwithstanding rhetoric to the contrary, and 
despite various intra-official controversies, colonists opted for the latter policy 
very earlier on. Questions about the nature of land tenure, the form of political 
representation, the powers of chiefs, the manner in which justice would be 
dispensed and the creation of separate reserve territories were critical to these early 
segregationist options. Already in 1894, the same year that the Glen Grey Act was 
passed, a separate Native Appeal Court with exclusive jurisdiction to hear civil 
appeals in matters involving the so-called native was created. The idea of a separate 
councillor system of local government for Africans was mooted more than a 
decade earlier in the 1883 Report of the Cape Native Laws and Customs Commission 
(Hammond-Tooke, 1975: 84; Evans, 1997: 184). This commission noted the 
extensive use of "customary law" in the Transkei even though it had not been 
codified: 
We find no uniformity in the criminal law or procedure, which until lately 
has been administered beyond the Kei. Some magistrates inform us that 
they administer the Kaffir Law; others that they administer colonial law; 
some that they apply the Kaffir mode of procedure by calling in their aid 
assessor, and allowing the examination of prisoners; others that theyadopt
104 Fred Hendricks and Lungisile Ntsebeza 
our colonial mode of procedure; some that they apply Kaffir law and 
procedures in some cases and colonial law and its procedures in others. 
The recognition of such customary practices; however inchoate and uneven this 
may have been for the colonial state, was critical to the power and position of 
chiefs. In this regard, the passage of the 1927 Native Administration Act went a 
long way to establishing some administrative uniformity in the country as a whole, 
including the Cape Province. The Act was intended to shore up the remains of 
chieftaincy in a country-wide policy of indirect rule, which would allow for 
segregation in the administration of justice. The policy was aptly named 
"retribalisation", giving chiefs the semblance of power and hoping that this would 
safeguard the allegiance and acquiescence of the Reserve residents (Lacey, 
1981: 94-119). 
In practice, magisterial and chiefly authority existed side by side. For example, 
since the Native Administrative Act conferred civil jurisdiction on chiefs, people 
had a choice of courts to which they could take their civil case. This duality often 
served to prolong the administration of justice as people who were dissatisfied with 
the judgement of a chief could take it to a magistrate where the case would be heard 
again. The magistrates obviously wielded much more power than the chiefs vis a 
vis the central government, but the chiefs were given a niche in the local arm of 
administration which they seized with alacrity. It certainly gave them more 
leverage in the tensions with the government appointed headmen. But chiefs were 
not regarded as a homogeneous group in terms of the Act. Instead it made provision 
for a distinction between chiefs who could be appointed by the Governor-General 
and those who would merely be recognised by the government. Only the former 
were given the limited powers provided for in the Act. No mention was made of 
the role of the latter and, in addition, the Governor-General could appoint a chief 
even in the face of popular opposition (Mqeke, 1997: 83-84). The pre-colonial 
system of chiefly authority obviously did not coincide neatly with the imposing 
bureaucratic structure of colonial authority. For one, the administrative areas (or 
locations as they were initially called) fell into a pattern of magisterial districts with 
little regard for the jurisdiction of chiefs. The government appointed headmen 
filled the gap. They occupied a "pivotal position" and without them,".. .implementation 
of the policy of indirect rule would have been impossible, or at least 
extremely difficult" (Hammond-Tooke, 1975: 109). 
The notion of indirect rule had been mooted and implemented long before the 
Bantu Authorities Act was passed in 1951 by the then newly-elected National Party 
government. Despite the best efforts of the colonial state to impose some uniformity 
in rural administration through the Native Administration Act of 1927, in the 
Transkei the situation remained capricious. The areas of jurisdiction of magistrates 
and chiefs did not coincide and the council system had persisted in the United
Chiefs and Rural Local Government in Post-Apartheid South Africa 105 
Transkei Territories General Council (UTTGC). The Act proposed to wipe out any 
administrative inconsistencies by establishing a uniform system of local, regional 
and territorial authorities. Chiefs were placed firmly in charge of local administration 
but directly linked to the central government through the Department of Native 
Affairs. The official justification was that Africans should assume a greater degree 
of control over their own affairs in the Reserves. Yet there were limits to indirect 
rule. The Minister of Native Affairs had ultimate control as the proclamation which 
gave effect to the Bantu Authorities Act conferred on him the power to depose any 
chief, cancel the appointment ofany councillor, appoint any officer with whatever 
powers he deemed necessary, and control the treasury and budgetary spending and 
authorise taxation (Hendricks, 1992: 72). 
The Bantu Authorities Act damaged the reputation of chiefs more than any other 
measure. The Native Administration Act had allowed the prestige of the chief to 
persist by relieving them of the power to implement unpopular government 
policies, foisting these instead (including the arduous task of local policing) on 
headmen. The role of the chief was dramatically altered under the Bantu Authorities 
Act which unambiguously tied the chiefs to the local arm of the state and 
enlisted them in the responsibility for social control. Recalcitrant chiefs - those 
who refused to be party to such an evidently oppressive system - were simply 
sidelined to make way for their more compliant counterparts. Invariably, the latter 
were subordinate chiefs not recognised by the mass of the population. Thus, for 
example, Sabata Dalindyebo was deposed as the paramount chief in Thcmbuland 
in favour of Kaiser Matanzima. A similar fate was visited on the Pedi paramountcy, 
as the government merely propped up minor chiefs and headmen where they were 
willing to accept Bantu Authorities. Lucas Mangope, a minor chief managed to 
install himself in power, as did Mangosuthu Buthelezi though through a slightly 
more circuitous route. In some cases, as in the former Ciskei, chieftaincies had to 
be created in order for the policy to have local force. Compliant commoners like 
Lennox Scbe made the most of the opportunities for collaboration presented by the 
new measures (Maloka, 1996: 175; van Kessel and Oomen, 1997: 563-564). 
While chiefs had already experienced far-reaching changes through land 
dispossession, the council system and a host of other colonial restrictions on their 
power, their powerlessness in the face of the power of the colonial state ironically 
assisted them in their battle for survival since they were not given responsibility for 
implementing unpopular government measures - a role reserved for government 
appointed headmen. In this way they were, to some degree at least, safeguarded 
against popular discontent by the manner in which they had been marginalised 
from the command structure of the Department of Native Affairs (Hammond- 
Tooke, 1975: 94: Bank and Southall. 1996: 412). The irony in this is that chiefs 
could commanda measure of popular respect (even legitimacy), precisely because 
of their powerlessness.
106 Fred Hendricks and Lungisile Ntsebeza 
The Bantu Authorities Act irrevocably changed all of this. It removed even the 
slim basis of chiefly legitimacy by conferring wide-ranging powers on the chiefs. 
It transformed chiefs by bringing them directly into the service of the state. It 
became more and more difficult for chiefs to claim legitimacy, win respect from 
their followers and implement the provisions of the Bantu Authorities Act at the 
same time.' Paramount Chief Victor Poto of Western Pondoland was one of the few 
to manage on this tight rope of collaboration with the authorities on the one hand 
and maintenance of popular tradition-based legitimacy on the other (Hendricks, 
1990). While the Act was passed in 1951, it was extended, by proclamation, to the 
Transkei five years later. Henceforth, there could no longer be "good" chiefs, 
accountable to the people, only co-opted lackeys of the central state. Popular 
opposition to discredited chiefs and the measures they had been charged to 
implement was swift and widespread yet simultaneously local and inchoate 
(Mamdani, 1996: 195). The legitimacy of the chiefs had all but dissipated in a sea 
of rural revolt. 
Bantu Authorities were to form the basis for the homeland system. They swept 
aside the Native Representative Council (the so-called toy telephones following 
the 1936 Native Representative Act); in the Transkei transformed the UTTGC into 
a Territorial Authority and totally excluded the rural poor and migrant workers 
from any access to the machinery of local government, except via the patronage 
and corruption of the chiefs (Evans, 1997: 186). Yet the Native Commissioners 
remained as the direct local representatives of the government instructed to, "... 
continually keep a watchful eye over tribal authorities" (Secretary for Native 
Affairs cited in Hendricks, 1990: 57). The Bantu Authorities Act paved the way for 
the passage of the Bantu Self-Government Act of 1959 which removed white 
representation of Africans in parliament. Since this formed the basis of "trusteeship" 
and contradicted the notion of devolving power to chiefs in a system of 
indirect rule in the reserve areas it could not be countenanced. The architects of 
apartheid had hoped that self-government would echo the independence movement 
which had swept through Africa in the 1960s. The resemblance was not 
particularly profound. For, while the latter represented a national struggle for selfdetermination, 
the bantustan system represented an attempt to foist an unwanted 
and bogus independence upon the mass of people who had identified the franchise 
in the central state as the most basic political demand. Nevertheless, self-government 
carried the trappings of independence with it. It introduced the concept of 
nationhood for different African ethnic groups on the understanding that these 
should develop separate political identities. Tribes had become nations which 
required states. Who would be most qualified to govern these than the loyal chiefs? 
In a sense then the chiefs were to bridge the gap between tradition and modernity, 
since they would be at the helm of nominally independent states and control the 
new legislatures in these "independent" states (Bank and Southall, 1996:413). The
Chiefs and Rural Local Government in Post-Apartheid South Africa 107 
basis for the sham independence of the 1970s and 1980s had been well and truly 
laid. 
There is a well documented catalogue of collaboration by chiefs and their 
autocratic abuse of power, especially after the introduction of Bantu Authorities 
(Tabata, 1951;Mbeki, 1961; Hendricks, 1990). Inevitably therefore, the question 
of how they managed to attain the recognition which they have in the new 
Constitution presents itself. How did some of them shift from being the tools of 
oppression to active agents of liberation? In practice, what made it possible for 
somebody like Stella Sigqua, former president of the Transkei and member of the 
royal house in Eastern Pondolond to become a cabinet minister in a democratic 
South Africa? The answer lies partly in the ANC's strategy of gal vanising as much 
support as possible in the anti-apartheid struggle. CONTRALESA was crucial to 
the revival of chieftaincy. Initially formed in 1987 to oppose the declaration of 
independence in KwaNdebele, the organisation soon spread to other parts of the 
country. By 1989 it claimed the support of 80% of the chiefs in the Transkei and 
50% in KwaZulu-Natal (Maloka, 1996:180). Clearly aligned with the ANC during 
these early years, CONTRALESA's constitution outlined its objectives as, "... 
fighting tribalism and ethnicity, claiming back the stolen land, demanding the 
dismantling of the Bantustan system and reclaiming South African citizenship, 
building a 'true' South African culture and national talent" (cited in Maloka, 1996: 
180). There was no mention of how exactly tribalism and the Reserves would be 
dismantled while retaining the chieftaincy. Indeed, it is our contention that 
tribalism is inherent in the recognition of separate chieftaincies. There may be 
something in the argument of retaining chieftaincy as an aspect of cultural defence 
against the colonial onslaught, but then the role of the chief should be clearly 
limited to customary ceremonies and the transmission of oral tradition. 
However, the ANC was keen to broaden its support base beyond the militant 
youth which had alienated a considerable proportion of the adult population, 
(certainly most of the elders in tribal authorities), and was eager to avoid a 
Mozambique-type of conservative alliance. Accordingly, itdecided to woo chiefs. 
The strategy was not without its critics within the ANC, as the youth and civic 
movements found the rapprochement between the liberation movement and their 
former enemies particularly repulsive. There is also some circumstantial evidence 
that this division coincided largely with the cleavage between returning exiles and 
local activists. While the latter were thoroughly embroiled in the battles against the 
chiefs whom they viewed as puppets of apartheid, the former were more concerned 
with pursuing a more broad based liberation movement (van Kessel and Oomen. 
1997:572). 
It is a moot point whether the ANC responded to an existing support base of 
chiefs in preparation for elections or whether they simply propped up a dying 
institution. Certainly in Kwa-Zulu Natal, traditional leaders enjoyed and continue
108 Fred Hendricks and Lungisile Ntsebeza 
to enjoy a substantial following, even if much of this is regimented by the Inkhata 
Freedom Party. However, the assumption of chiefly support and the possibility of 
bloc votes was often horribly wrong. Once the ANC had embarked on a strategy 
of cajoling chiefs into their movement it became impossible to distinguish between 
different chiefs, between those who commanded some traditional legitimacy and 
those whose existence depended on the apartheid regime. But the very institution 
of chieftaincy had to be defended, irrespective of whether chiefs were indeed chiefs 
in the traditional sense. Their de facto position would confer on them immediate 
legitimacy if they joined in the struggle against the white minority regime. 
Therefore, expedience rather than principle was the basis of the alliance with the 
ANC which has encroached very heavily on the nature of democracy at the local 
level in post-1994 South Africa. For a while the national framework is clearly 
guided by a democratic constitution, this docs not automatically translate into 
democratic policies or practices at a local level especially in the former Reserves 
where traditional authorities continue to operate. 
It is in the light of this that the role of chiefs had to be redefined in order to 
legitimize the alliance with them. What were once puppets, stooges, collaborators 
or policemen chiefs for the colonial and apartheid regimes immediately became 
progressive agents ostensibly representing their people. 
This is why the following statement in the The White Paper on Local Government 
(1998: 97) is untenable. 
(T)here is no doubt that the important role that traditional leaders have 
played in the development of their communities should be continued. 
This statement is fundamentally flawed for three main reason. First, there is not 
simply one role which traditional authorities have played, but a diversity of roles 
depending on the political and temporal context. Chiefs do not constitute a 
homogeneous group with a single purpose and role. Besides the internal differentiation 
between paramount chiefs, chiefs and sub-chiefs and their councillors and 
contestation over the seniority of different chiefs in various groups leads to a highly 
complex map of chiefly influence. The government-appointed headmen and chiefs 
merely compound the situation. Second, the claim that chiefs have developed their 
communities is contentious. Even in terms of the narrow purview of the policy, the 
performance of Bantu Authorities was a dismal failure (Hendricks, 1990: 58). 
Oppression, control and corruption rather than development far more adequately 
capture the role of traditional authorities in the Reserves, especially during the 
apartheid era. Thirdly, to suggest that the role of traditional authorities should be 
continued even alter the local government elections of 1995. without specifying 
the limits of that role, is to undermine the authority of elected representatives in a 
democratic society and to fudge the differentiation between elected officials and
Chiefs and Rural Local Government in Post-Apartheid South Africa 109 
hereditary leaders. Since chiefs played such a treacherous role in upholding 
apartheid, proposing that they should continue provides them with a licence of 
legitmacy and maintains the old forms of domination. 
The White Paper on Local Government (1998: 97) also introduces the concept 
of traditional communities without specifying exactly what these may entail. No 
mention is made of how these traditional communities are to coexist with 
democratic institutions. Nor is there any discussion about who is to decide on 
membership in these communities, or what the basis for such membership would 
be and how non-members could be excluded from the community. It seems 
reasonable to assume that these are communities presently under some or other 
form of the relics of Bantu Authority at the local level. The concessions granted to 
chiefs in this regard are therefore extraordinary and far-reaching as the following 
statement shows. 
Traditional communities will be entitled to vest the responsibility for 
general administration and the allocation of their land in the institutions of 
their choice, which may include traditional authorities. 
This statement raises a host of questions about the nature of democracy. If 
people are afforded the choice of yielding their democratic right to elected local 
government in favour of some form of traditional authority, the empirical question 
of how that choice is to be determined becomes crucially important. Is this to be 
done by way of a referendum? What is the role of the chief in this process? How 
does one deal with a situation where there are clear differences between those 
preferring traditional authorities and those who have embraced democratic representation? 
There are no easy answers to these questions and the White Paper 
certainly does not provide any, except to defer them by mentioning that the thorny 
issue of traditional authorities and their relation to democratic institutions is to be 
dealt with by three government departments. Meanwhile, the Department of 
Constitutional Development is preparing its White Paper on Traditional Affairs, 
which inter alia will include a national audit of traditional leaders; the Department 
of Justice intends to establish community law courts which will grant traditional 
authorities special recognition; and the Department of Land Affairs is investigating 
a range of land tenure options. In many ways then, the situation is in flux and 
traditional leaders, sensing this lack of clarity, have attempted to worm themselves 
into the new circumstances just as they had done under colonialism and apartheid. 
To add to the muddle, the ANC is internally divided over the extent to which 
traditional authority should be grafted onto local and provincial levels of democratic 
governance. 
In sum, confusion continues to reign about the nature of local government in 
rural areas. After Bantu Authorities, chiefs were given considerable powers in the
110 Fred Hendricks and Lungisile Ntsebeza 
reserve areas. With the demise of apartheid and the introduction of a democratic 
government in 1994, local government councillors were elected in rural areas, in 
keeping with the constitutional requirement for democratically elected government. 
At the same time, the Constitution recognised the institution of traditional 
authorities without clarifying their precise role of chiefs in relation to the newlyelected 
rural councils. This calls for a detailed assessment of the nature of rural 
local government in a democratic South Africa in order to identify the role 
envisaged for chiefs and the problems encountered in practice. This is the subject 
of the next section. 
Local Government After Apartheid 
In a recent paper, Jeff Lever (1997: 1) argues that South Africa has experienced a 
paper revolution and that there is an enormous chasm between policy and practice. 
The situation in local government is no exception. There is a veritable gold mine 
of official documents at different stages of the legislative and policy-making 
processes. Also there are several policy documents which have not been successfully 
implemented. As pointed out earlier, there is a multiplicity of government 
departments involved in the formulation of various policies in respect of the role 
of chiefs which, we would argue, accounts for the widening gap between policy and 
practice. In what follows, we attempt to provide tentative answers to why 
implementation is so problematic and how this is related to the dilemmas of the 
political and consitutional changes currently taking place in the country. This will 
be done by focusing on how the new government proposes to address the legacy 
of apartheid inequalities by extending basic services to blacks in local government 
and how chiefs may fit into this overall framework. 
The Government of National Unity inherited a complex system of local 
government policies in line with the policy of separate development. The existing 
local government system was also characterised by inefficient and expensive 
duplications. The government has tried to create order out of the state of disarray 
by rationalising the local government system. At the same time, there is the painful 
recognition that the changes that are envisaged will not be smooth at all; because 
negotiation, mediation and settlement of disputes will be involved as the old order 
gives way to the new. 
The changes were ushered in by the Constitution, the Transitional Local 
Government Act, and the Development Facilitation Act. In addition, there is a 
veritable flood of Green Papers, White Papers and Discussion documents which 
hope to provide the specific guidelines for the new post- apartheid order in concert 
with the major objectives of the Constitution. There is little doubt that the 1996 
Constitution heralded a new era for local government in South Africa. It made 
provision for local government autonomy in the sense that national and provincial 
governments may not compromise a municipality's functioning. Local govern-
Chiefs and Rural Local Government in Post-Apartheid South Africa 111 
ment, on paper at least, is no longer a regulatory extension of central government. 
On closer examination, especially in relation to the provisions in the transitional 
arrangements of the Constitution for the continued functioning of traditional 
authorities and traditional courts, there appears to be a great deal of continuity as 
the old order meshes with the new. In practice, a hybrid form of local government 
in various stages of transition emanates from these inconsistencies in policy. 
Section 40 (1) of the South African Constitution unequivocally states: 
In the Republic, government is constituted as national, provincial and local 
spheres of government which are distinctive, interdependent and 
interrelated. 
Furthermore, the Constitution introduces the principle of co-operative government 
which makes local and provincial governments into spheres of government 
in their own right, ultimately accountable under the Constitution. However, the 
purse strings are centralised and since the revenue generating capacity of provinces 
is severely curtailed, their power, in the long term must, of necessity, dwindle. On 
the other hand, in terms of the Constitution, there is an effort to enhance the powers 
and functions of local government by giving greater prominence to the role of local 
authorities in supporting socio-economic upliftment and local economic development. 
Municipalities have the power to make regulations and by-laws on those 
matters over which they have jurisdiction. The following "objects of local 
government" are set out in the Constitution, Section 152(1): 
(a) to provide democratic and accountable government for local communities; 
(b) to ensure the provision of services to communities in a sustainable manner; 
(c) to promote social and economic development; 
(d) to promote a safe and healthy environment; and 
(e) to encourage the involvement of communities and community organisations 
in the matters of local government. 
However, a regulation or bye-law will be declared ultra vires if it is deemed to 
contradict the Consitition (SAIRR, 1996/97 Survey: 570). 
On the issue of development, the Constitution, Section 153 (a) stipulates that a 
municipality must".. .structure and manage its administration and budgeting and 
planning processes to the basic needs of the community and to promote the social 
and economic development of the community ..." In other words, over and above 
the regulatory local government functions of control and service delivery, the 
Constitution adds "development duties", including development planning, facilitation 
and support. This, of course, corresponds with the overall manner in which 
the Constitution seeks to entrench second generation or socio-economic rights of 
the mass of the population. Again, these seem to be paper rights. The difficulties 
of implementing them will be become apparent presently.
112 Fred Hendricks and Lungisile Ntsebeza 
With regard to the organisational structure of local government, section 151(1) 
of the Constitution stipulates that the "... local sphere of government consists of 
municipalities, which must be established for the whole of the territory of the 
Republic". The Constitution does not specify the form municipal structures should 
take, except to say that"... national legislation must define the different types of 
municipality that may be established". Three categories of municipality are 
mentioned: 
(i) Category A, one with exclusive municipal executive and legislative authority 
in its area; 
(ii) Category B, one that shares municipal and executive authority with a 
category C municipality within whose area it falls; and 
(iii) Category C, one that has municipal and executive authority in an area that 
includes more than one municipality. 
On the other hand, under the Local Government Transition (Amendment) Act 
of 1996, a "district council" model of rural local government is proposed. Briefly, 
this consists of a two-level structure of local government, encompassing a district 
council at a sub-regional level, constituted of representatives from both urban and 
rural areas, and a range of possible structures at local (primary) level. A variety of 
possiblities is envisaged for rural areas. Firstly if residents so desire it is possible 
to have no structure whatsoever. It is also possible for the administrator to define 
the demarcation, constitution, powers and functions of primary structures; or 
residents, may prefer to have structures called Transitional Representative Councils 
(TrepCs) which should be demarcated on the basis of magisterial districts. 
These are seen to be representatives and brokers which would evolve into effective 
and democratic local authorities. 
The Act stipulates that members of the Transitional Representative Councils 
(TrepCs), should be elected by proportional representation. Moreover, if the MEC 
considers it desirable, members may be nominated by interest groups recognised 
by the MEC provided that no single interest group nominates more than 10 percent 
of the total number of members of a Transitional Representative Council and the 
total number of members nominated by interest groups in aggregrate does not 
exceed 20 per cent of the total number of members. "Interest groups" are defined 
as farmers, land owners or levy payers, farm labourers, women, and traditional 
leaders. It is therefore as an "interest group" that chiefs can vie with elected 
councils as representatives of the people. 
The Interim Constitution had defined an exofficio status for traditional authorities 
in local government and indicated that national legislation shall establish 
provincial houses of traditional authorities. These were concessions to the demand 
on the part of the chiefs for constitutional guarantees for their position. The firm 
promises of the Interim Constitution gave way to an indecisive formulation in the 
final constitution (adopted by the Constitutional Assembly on 8 May 1996,
Chiefs and Rural Local Government in Post-Apartheid South Africa 113 
amended on 11 October of that year and signed three months later by President 
Mandela on 10 December 1996), to the effect that national legislation may establish 
institutions of traditional authority but there is no obligation to do so. Thus, the 
mandatory nature of the establishment of provincial houses of traditional authorities 
of the Interim Consitution was replaced with a discretionary clause in the final 
text (Kessel and Oomen, 1997:573). Yet, in Schedule 6 of the Constitution dealing 
with Transitional Arrangements, the ex officio membership of traditional leaders 
of various bodies of local government is confirmed, at least until April 1999. 
What is the rationale for a District Council model? In his opening and closing 
addresses to the "Workshop on Traditional Authorities and Local Government" 
held in Johannesburg on 24 and 25 November 1997, Minister Moosa argued that 
rural areas, particularly the former Bantustans were reduced to reservoirs of cheap 
labour over years of colonial and apartheid rule in South Africa. As a result they 
lack human and material resources to provide municipal services such as water, 
electricity, and so forth for their communities. The District Council model is an 
attempt towards equity and redistribution in terms of which the wealthier, urban 
councils will be amalgamated with poorer neighbouring communities. The idea is 
that basic services may in this manner be extended to the poorer communities. This 
argument does not address the widespread problem in the former Bantustans of 
small, poorly run towns existing close to vast poverty-stricken rural communities. 
The assumptions are that the wealthy urban areas can transfer some revenue to the 
poorer rural areas for the purpose of expanding service delivery. But, if the small 
urban areas themselves experience enormous revenue problems the assumption 
rests on rather shaky grounds. In this regard, we may refer to the recent debacle in 
Butterworth, in the former Transkei, where the provincial government had to step 
in to oversee the administration of the town, despite the protestations of the 
outgoing mayor. 
Problems of Practice 
There are several practical problems which hamper implementation. First, there is 
a lack of understanding of the policy by those who are supposed to implement it 
and those affected by it at the grassroots level. In particular, the lower level 
government officials, district councillors and transitional representative/rural 
councillors2 do not have a clear grasp of emerging policies and legislation. 
Consequently they are not in a position to explain and interpret the new policies to 
their constituencies, the majority of whom are illiterate and semi-literate.3 Secondly, 
there is lack of clarity regarding local government in rural areas which arises 
from the ongoing struggles between the "leadership/elite"4 among traditional 
authorities. Leaders in CONTRALESA, the Provincial Houses and National 
Council of Traditional Leaders, have articulated their opposition to the Constitution 
and legislation guiding the existing (rural) local government model, namely
114 Fred Hendricks and Lungisile Ntsebeza 
the Local Government Transition Act 1993 as amended. They clearly reject the 
policy formulation process and new legislation on (rural) local government and are 
insisting on constitutional guarantees for their position and authority. Since they 
lost the battle for dropping the gender equality clauses of the Consitution, they feel 
that they had to dig in their heels on the question of local government. In essence 
they are trying to resuscitate a form of Bantu Authorities where they are the primary 
instruments of local government. Since this amounts to a violation of the Bill of 
Rights there have been ongoing political struggles between chiefs and elected 
councillors, especially in the Eastern Cape. These struggles have not made local 
government any easier. Also, rural local government does not feature very 
prominently on the list of government priorities. This marginalisation, in terms of 
committing human and material resources, makes the picture in rural areas look 
gloomy.5 There is confusion at the level of service delivery as to the exact role of 
elected councillors. Some labour under the impression that they are responsible for 
facilitating development and others that they are directly involved in the operational 
side of service provision and management. Rural councillors themselves do 
not seem to know where they stand. In the one case of the Xhalanga magisterial 
district in the Eastern Cape, the TrepC is seen to be competing with NGOs in 
aspects of rural development, including provision of water,6 instead of helping 
facilitate the provision of services through partnerships with these NGOs. 
The list of difficulties does not end there. In reality, TrepCs, and indeed District 
Councils in the Eastern Cape have demonstrated that they do not have the capacity 
and resources to directly provide services in rural areas, let alone facilitate 
development. These are new structures, lacking in experience and material 
resources, and often having to develop their functions from scratch. Capacity 
problems plaguing local government in rural areas, are acknowledged in the Green 
Paper on Local Government in the following terms. 
It is generally true that few powers and duties have been devolved to rural 
municipalities due to lack of capacity. TrepCs generally do not have their 
own administrations, and remain little more than advisory structures to 
District Councils, on whom they rely for their administrative, technical and 
financial support. Although TRCs have taxing powers, they have very 
limited potential to generate adequate tax and service, charge revenue, and 
thus very little to sustain a level of fiscal autonomy. They are reliant on 
grants from and through the District Councils. This fiscal support is limited, 
and the basis for transfer is not entirely clear and so does not generate fiscal 
certainty. The limited powers and resources of rural municipalities, and 
their consequent inability to serve local communities, has lessened their 
credibility. This loss in credibility poses a threat to the future development 
of local government in these areas.7
Chiefs and Rural Local Government in Post-Apartheid South Africa 115 
The TrepCs also cover very large geographic areas. In Mqanduli, for example, 
17 councillors are expected to cover 40 scattered villages with limited facilities, 
especially transport. Typical basic services currently required in rural areas include 
the provision of water, upgrading and maintenance of rural roads, electricity 
supply to homesteads, improved telecommunication, and refuse collection and 
disposal.8 In the view of their numerous limitations (see above), it is virtually 
impossible for TrepCs to provide services in these areas. 
The foregoing provides some evidence of the huge chasm existing between 
national policy and how it is communicated, or not communicated to those for 
whom it is intended. For example, the White Paper on Local Government provides 
various options to creatively utilise scarce capacity and resources. It suggests that 
partnerships with other organs of state, the private sector, NGOs, CBOs, or other 
civic structures can mobilise additional capacity. While a municipality remains the 
ultimate authority responsible for ensuring that a service is provided, and regulating 
that service, this approach enables local government to use different service 
providers to fulfill municipal objectives. Given the overall lack of capacity in the 
public sector to provide services to rural communities particularly, though not 
exclusively, in the Eastern Cape, as well as the remoteness of these areas, there is 
little prospect of any public sector agency improving service delivery there. Both 
District Councils and TrepCs recognise this reality, but unfortunately they are not 
aware of the various partnership possibilities which the policy recommends. 
There is, above all, confusion on the role of local government in development. 
This practical and conceptual muddle is likely to be aggravated by the land reform 
programme. In particular policies being developed for land tenure reform have the 
potential to confuse the most astute or studious administrator. It is the expressed 
intention of the Department of Land Affairs to forgo its trusteeship role in 
communal, so-called tribal land, which even now is held in trust by the state on 
behalf of the various "tribal" communities. Through a convoluted process, the 
Department of Land Affairs intends to return land to its rightful owners, namely 
people who have proven rights to land.* In some instances, this process will 
effectively privatise communal land, thus raising the question about the "developmental 
duties" of local government on private land. Moreover, how arc traditional 
leaders to be accommodated in, or excluded from, this plan? 
The instruments to effect the "development duties" of local government are the 
Integrated Development Plan (IDP) and Land Development Objectives (LDOs) 
provided for in the Local Government Transition Act 1993 as amended, and the 
Development Facilitation Act respectively. These require the preparation and 
implementation of LDOs for local government bodies. The regulations lay down 
procedures to ensure the active participation of communities and all stakeholders 
in the setting of LDOs which should be linked to the budgeting process of local 
government. There is little evidence to show that District Councils and TrepCs in
116 Fred Hendricks and Lungisile Ntsebeza 
the Eastern Cape understand what legislation requires of them in fulfilling their 
"development duties". '"This also applies to their understanding of the implications 
of the resolve by the Department of Land Affairs to "privatise" communal land. 
Some rural councillors wrongly understand their "development duty" to include 
the vexed question of land allocation - a function that gave traditional authorities 
during the apartheid period unfettered powers of control and corruption. When 
"tribal" land was stil I the nominal property of the state, the chiefs, as owners, could 
decide on the question of land allocation. Traditional authorities derived much of 
their power from their control over the allocation of land in terms of the Bantu 
Authorities Act 1951. However, the one implication of the decision by the 
Department of Land Affairs is that communal land will now be owned by those who 
live on it. It is therefore the members of the particular group concerned that will 
decide on the question of land allocation. How this will work in practice is not clear. 
The District Councils and TrepCs; s local government are not the land owners, 
and as such will not have any role to play in the allocation of land. It will still be 
their duty as local government, the ugh, to regulate the use of land and to facilitate 
development in rural areas. Needless to say, the chiefs are not at all happy with 
proposals which so clearly remove the basis for their power. The ambiguity of the 
policy in relation to the constitutional guarantees for chiefly authority and the 
concessions of the White Paper on Local Government allowing communities, in 
typical voluntarist fashion, to decide whether they would prefer to have their areas 
administered by traditional authorities, suggests that these proposals from the 
Department of Land Affairs will not be easy to implement. The ambiguity is a 
reflection of the nature of consensual politics which does not privilege any 
particular position. The subsequent rulings by the Constitutional Court in favour 
of the chiefs reveals the deep-seated nature of the tension between an expedient 
alliance with chiefs on the one hand and the principles of democracy on the other. 
In this regard Mqeke (1997: 3) argues that the scope for the application of 
customary law is an implicit recognition of cultural pluralism and the nonderogation 
provision (in the treatment of traditional leaders) confirms that there is 
a role for chiefs in the new dispensation. 
The perception of many people" of the functions of elected rural councillors has 
also been the source of much confusion. Indeed, traditional authorities themselves 
are not clear on the functions of elected councillors vis-a-vis their own. This point 
is captured in the submission of the chairperson of the National Council of 
Traditional Leaders to a workshop of traditional authorities and local government. 
According to Kgosi Suping: 
Much of this tension arises from the fact that the current legislative 
framework provides for the co-existence of Traditional Authorities and the 
new local government structures. The emergence of elected local governance
Chiefs and Rural Local Government in Post-Apartheid South Africa 117 
structures could be perceived as challenging the role and powers of 
Traditional Authorities, and therefore necessitating clarification and 
negotiation on our perceived future role. 
This perception is further heightened by the behaviour of some elected 
councillors, who continue to wage a power struggle against traditional authorities. 
The struggle against traditional authorities prior to the negotiated settlement of the 
early 1990s was seen by the civic movement led by the South African National 
Civic Organisation as a struggle to replace traditional authorities by democratically 
elected structures. As early as 1986, the National Working Committee of the 
United Democratic Front resolved that, "... tribal structures should be replaced 
with democratic organisation" (cited in van Kessel and Oomen, 1997: 568). The 
democratic election of local government structures meant that some, but not all, 
functions, as we have seen above, would be performed by elected rather than 
appointed structures. However, the perception continues in the minds of many 
people that all the functions that were performed by traditional authorities, 
including the maintenance of law and order, dispute adjudication and resolution, 
and so forth, would now be taken over by elected councillors. Given the disarray 
of local government and fluidity of the situation in relation to the role of chiefs this 
is hardly surprising. Furthermore, the fact that indigenous law is protected through 
the Constitutional Court means that the judicial functions of chiefs are also 
safeguarded. These contrasting signals feed into the ambivalence of the role of 
chiefs in a democratic South Africa. It is also related to questions about the 
expediency of alliances with chiefs in the event of local government elections and 
even national elections. Such alliances do not come cheaply. Chiefs have demanded 
concessions and bargained for better terms in the new circumstances. The 
rationale for this position is the perception that chiefs may be a hindrance within 
the anti-apartheid alliance but that they would be far more dangerous outside such 
an alliance in a democratic South Africa. It should be mentioned that while it may 
be vital to secure an election victory, the long term implications of concessions to 
chiefs are inimical to democracy. 
The Role Of Traditional Authorities In Rural Local 
Government 
It would appear that existing policies and legislation provide an extremely limited 
role for traditional authorities in local government, as an "'interest group" with no 
more than 10 percent representation.12 The position is much more fluid and uneven 
in practice. Chiefs are engaged in a rearguard action to defend the roles which 
apartheid had designed for them. They have used the ambiguities in the Constitution 
and the various concessions in the legislative processes to full effect. Hence. 
Bank and Southall (1996:408), following Richard Sklar, have proposed a version
118 Fred Hendricks and Lungisile Ntsebeza 
of Sklar's concept of mixed government, involving a transformed chieftaincy in 
the promotion of democracy. In agreement, Manona (1997: 68) argues in favour 
of harmonising the relations between chiefs and the civic structures involved in 
local government. This position is premised on the notion that, "... traditions are 
not meant to hamper progress but should actually facilitate it". The basis for such 
arrangements is not clear since chiefs continue to insist on complete administrative 
control over their areas of jurisdiction. At the very least they wish to uphold 
indigenous law, but the demand to control land allocation under a system of 
communal tenure also remains firmly entrenched (Mqeke, 1997: 5). Much of the 
argument in favour of merging chieftaincy with democratic local government rests 
on the presumption of "good" chiefs who resisted apartheid and eschewed 
involvement in local government during the apartherid era (Bank and Southall, 
1996: 425). 
While there may very well be chiefs who were opposed to government policy 
in respect of independence for the homelands, this is no guarantee of their 
commitment to democracy. There may be chiefs who still attempt to address the 
concerns of their communities, but the basis on which they do this is critical for the 
future of democracy in South Africa. In a sense, chiefs can only be "good" if they 
reject the very basis of chiefly authority and embrace democratic forms of 
representation. The history of colonial inteference in chiefly authority has rendered 
the latter necessarily despotic. According to van Kessel and Oomen (1997: 584), 
the firm alliance between chiefs and the ANC started to disintegrate especially after 
the local government elections when the ANC grew more confident that it, "... 
could win on its own without cumbersome alliances with traditional leaders";11 that 
"we have grown up. We're more comfortable with our democracy now than we 
were in 1993, more confident of our support and less inclined to believe the 
traditional leaders when they say we can't rule without them. Our experience is 
proving otherwise. And on top of this, Holomisa has pissed everyone off royally 
by engaging in stand-off politics, like marching with Buthelezi and calling for an 
election boycott" (Weekly Mail and Guardian, 13 September 1996). In the Eastern 
Cape, the many visits by President Mandela and his mediating influence between 
the civics and chiefs; his statement that the "culture" of the people should unite 
chiefs and commoners; and the election of CONTRALESA stalwart, Gwadiso, as 
provincial leader of Holomisa's United Democratic Movement all point to a more 
complex situation. There is certainly no record of public statement about jettisoning 
chiefs as an alliance partner in the province, though many activists would prefer 
to get rid of them. Maloka's (1995: 42) position is equally contradictory. While 
arguing, correctly in our view, that,"... by its nature, chieftaincy encourages tribal 
and sectarian consciousness", he goes on to seek out the authentic chiefs, "... 
rooted among the rural people". The latter simply does not make any sense. If 
indeed chiefs are intrinsically anti-democratic then even those who arc rooted
Chiefs and Rural Local Government in Post-Apartheid South Africa 119 
among the masses cannot be expected to foster democracy unless they abdicate 
their position as chiefs, in which case they will, obviously, not be chiefs. The logic 
of this position is that chiefs should be organised on a democratic platform, not as 
chiefs but as ordinary rural citizens. 
There are basically two routes for chiefly representation: the ex officio path 
elaborated in the Transitional Arrangements of the final Constitution or as an 
"interest group" as defined by the White Paper on Local Government. Chiefs are 
not happy with either of these, claiming that their status places them above 
commoners. There are however other avenues for chiefly authority. The IDP and 
LDO processes which define the development role of local government clearly lay 
down procedures to ensure the active participation of communities and all 
stakeholders in the setting of LDOs which should be linked to the budgeting 
process of local government. This means that traditional authorities who continue 
to command the respect of their "subjects" will become key stakeholders in 
mapping out a vision for their areas, and setting long term objectives and short term 
action plans as required by the planning and development processes. Once again, 
these processes and procedures are hardly known and understood by those who are 
supposed to implement them and those affected by them. It is the contention of this 
paper that the confusion and lack of understanding of functions, powers, roles, 
processes and procedures, feeds into the tensions between elected councillors and 
traditional authorities. This in turn leads to obstacles to good governance as well 
as democratic participation and development at the local level. The state will have 
to commit enormous resources to enhance the efficacy of local government in rural 
areas. In particular, financial resources are needed to attract skilled activists to be 
candidates for local government positions. At the moment, the allowances for 
councillors in rural areas are too small to attract skilled people.14 
As indicated above, continuing struggles between the leadership of traditional 
authorities and the government compounds the confusion that besets local government 
in rural areas. They are clearly rejecting and/or resisting the 1996 Constitution, 
existing legislation and the new policies that arc emerging through the White 
Paper on Local Government Process. On the other hand, the post-1994 process 
attempts to define a role for traditional authorities within a "modern" democratic 
representative system. Conversely, traditional authorities argue that the new 
democratic dispensation should define its place within traditional authority structures. 
As far as these traditional authorities are concerned, the debate on local 
government in rural areas, and the role of traditional authorities has not been 
resolved and a new beginning is proposed, in disregard of post-1994 developments. 
The widely reported "defections" of traditional authorities from the ANC 
in the Eastern Cape, which led to meetings with traditional authorities in the 
Transkei region addressed by President Mandela, Ministers Moosa. Hanckom and 
Zuma, are clear manifestations of these unresolved tensions.15
120 Fred Hendricks and Lungisile Ntsebeza 
To illustrate this point, let us consider the case of the Eastern Cape.'" Traditional 
authorities in the Eastern Cape, unlike their KwaZulu counterparts, participated in 
the negotiation process of the early 1990s." They were party to the adoption of 
Resolution 34 of the National Negotiating Council which was unanimously 
adopted on 11 December 1993. In terms of this resolution, the following was, inter 
alia, agreed upon: 
• Traditional authorities shall continue to exercise their functions in terms of 
indigenous law as prescribed and regulated by enabling legislation. 
• There shall be an elected local government which shall take political responsibility 
for the provision of services in its area of jurisdiction. 
• The (hereditary) traditional leaders within the area of jurisdiction of a local 
authority shall be ex officio members of the local government. 
• The chairperson of any local government shall be elected from amongst all the 
members of the local government. 
However, when the final constitution was adopted, the ex officio membership 
of traditional authorities was omitted from the text but included in the Transitional 
Arrangements (pp 164-165). In effect chiefs have been given a new lease of life 
which they are attempting to turn into a recipe for permanent survival. In their 
presentation to the Department of Constitutional Development'" the House of 
Traditional Leaders in the Eastern Cape claim that they were not consulted when 
the Constitution was amended. Attempts to challenge the amendment in the 
Constitutional Court failed. However, the Court "did express a view that it reserves 
a right to declare any act or administrative direction which undermines the 
institution of traditional leadership to be unconstitutional." (p 9). Despite this, the 
Eastern Cape House of Traditional Leaders is concerned that the "Constitutional 
provisions as they are do not guarantee the role of traditional leadership at a Local 
Government sphere". 
Apart from the Constitution, the above body rejects the Local Government 
Transition Act 1993 as amended which establishes, as indicated above, the 
"district" model of local government in non-metropolitan areas. They contend that 
together with their rural communities they, "... were not part of the negotiations 
that produced the Bill and it is only fair and just that no provision of such Act should 
be operative in our areas". According to them, the Act "... is a product of 
negotiation between the civic movement on the hand and metropolitan and other 
municipalities on the other.... "." The fact that the Act provides for the participation 
of traditional authorities as an "interest group" along with farmers, farm 
workers and women, is rejected as "against the spirit and express terms of the 
agreement reached between traditional leaders and all the parties at the World 
Trade Centre Talks", and "totally unacceptable and ... an insult to our institution". 
Thirdly, the Eastern Cape House of Traditional Leaders challenges the fact that 
elections in rural areas did not accommodate the election of candidates on a ward
Chiefs and Rural Local Government in Post-Apartheid South Africa 121 
basis. They dub this omission as "an unfair discrimination prohibited by the 
Constitution".20 
The solution proposed by them is a new beginning, that is, to start almost from 
scratch a process similar to the negotiations that led to the Local Government 
Transition Act to ensure "... a true (sic) Rural Local Government which will be 
acceptable to all". In the interim, "... traditional authorities and the regional 
authorities should be allowed to continue to exist and exercise their functions in 
terms of the existing enabling legislation". In the same document, the above body 
proposes, inter alia, the following model for rural local government: 
• (T)hat the Government should recognise that at a local level three different 
structures should be recognised and maintained, namely: 
(a) Metropolitan Local Government; 
(b) Town/Village Municipal Council; 
(c) Traditional Authority 
• The traditional authorities must be recognised as a primary tier of local 
government. 
• That each and every administrative area within an area of a traditional authority 
must constitute a ward and that the municipal area within a magisterial district 
must constitute a separate primary authority. The traditional heads of administrative 
areas should be ex officio members of the traditional authority. 
• The councillors of traditional authorities should be democratically elected 
from each ward within its area of jurisdiction and the Head of this sphere of 
Government must be a traditional leader. 
• The councillors at the primary level should elect representatives to the regional 
authority to represent their constituencies. 
• The heads of traditional authorities should be members of the regional authority 
together with councillors elected by other councillors. The mayors of standalone 
towns or villages and councillors should also be members of the regional 
authority. 
• The Government, in consultation with the Regional Authority concerned, 
should appoint a chief executive officer accountable to parliament and the 
Auditor General. 
• We and the rural communities reject the notion of municipalities for rural or 
traditional authority areas and for the reason the Government should revisit 
Chapter 7 of the final Constitution, Act 108 of 1996. 
In essence, this would imply a return to Bantu Authorities. As indicated, similar 
proposals were made by the other Houses of Traditional Leaders, the National 
Council of Traditional Leaders and Contralesa. The submission by the House of 
Traditional Leaders is that the Province has an established and statutory system of 
Traditional and Regional Authorities which exercises all relevant powers of local 
government in traditional communities. This is also a two tier model of local
122 Fred Hendricks and Lungisile Ntsebeza 
government in which all relevant powers are ascribed to elected Regional Councils, 
but could be assumed by one of its primary structures, including Traditional 
Authorities, as soon as such structures acquired administrative capacity so allow 
(p. 6). What makes the position is KwaZulu Natal different in the existence of a 
category of "remaining areas". In terms of the Local Government Transition Act 
a '"remaining area' means any area which is situate within that part of the area of 
a district council which does not form part of the area of jurisdiction or area of a 
transitional local council, a transitional representative council or a transitional 
rural council". 
Conclusion 
The proposals of traditional authorities do not take into account the argument 
raised by Minister Moosa that due to the low tax base in rural areas, fewer and not 
more structures and councillors should be proposed. The District Model and moves 
towards amalgamation are attempts to reduce the number of councillors. Contrary 
to this, the proposal by traditional authorities implies that there will be more 
councillors. This raises the question of funding, given the rather fragile tax base of 
the rural councils. Chief Gwadiso, the deputy chairperson of the Eastern Cape 
House of Traditional Leaders is unconvincing in suggesting that elected councillors 
in rural areas will be prepared to offer their services on a voluntary basis. 
Traditional Authorities are not setting a good example in this regard, given the fact 
that one of their main concerns in the post-1994 dispensation is the possibility of 
losing their remuneration. Secondly, the above proposal creates a dichotomy 
between "urban" and "rural" life as if the two exist in separate compartments, with 
neither influencing the other, adeversely or otherwise. This seems to suggest that 
the leadership is lagging behind their "subjects" whose needs and demands, for 
example, reticulated water, electricity, roads, telecommunications, etc, are increasingly 
competing with those residing in "urban" areas. 
The deadlock outlined above between the government and traditional leaders 
has so far not been resolved. The Minister of Provincial Affairs and Constitutional 
Development, Vally Moosa, continues to speak in vague terms about how exactly 
the above dilemma will be sorted out. The ANC dominated government seems to 
be caught in an agonising dilemma. A decision that favours elected representatives 
in terms of the existing policies and legislation, or the proposal by the leadership 
of the traditional authorities, is likely to have grave implications for the ANC. It is 
unlikely that they will get the support of both traditional authorities and their 
supporters, on the one hand, and civil society on the other, as was the case in the 
1994 democratic elections. Arguably, it is this dilemma that makes it difficult for 
a forthright response to emerge. Premised on expedience rather than principle, the 
role of chiefs in the next election therefore becomes critically important. The chiefs 
who appeared friendly to the ANC were initially used to split the bloc of pro-
Chiefs and Rural Local Government in Post-Apartheid South Africa 123 
apartheid chiefs and to prevent a conservative alliance of the National Party and its 
marionettes. Chiefs thus survived the transition to democracy in South Africa 
because some of them threw their lot in with the ANC once it became clear that the 
National Party could not hope to remain in power. 
Alliances are premised on promises. The ANC have attempted to keep parts of 
their assurances to the chiefs by recognising them in the Constitution, legitimising 
their existence in the provincial houses for Traditional Authorities and allowing 
them a role in local government. The tension between democracy and traditional 
authority thus persists in the new South Africa and we suspect that the ANC is keen 
to delay resolution of the issue until after the next elections. At the same, the longer 
these tensions persist, the more they will be exploited politically especially by 
traditional authorities. At the village level, this holds grave consequences for 
democratic and effective governance. 
Notes 
* Fred Hendricks, Head, Department of Sociology and Industrial Sociology, 
Rhodes University Grahamstown, South Africa. 
** Lungisile Ntsebeza, Programme for Land and Agrarian Studies, School of 
Government, University of the Western Cape, Bellville, South Africa. 
1. Other unpopular measures which chiefs were supposed to implement included 
the Betterment, Rehabilitation and Stabilisation Schemes (see Hendricks, 
1992). 
2. Eastern Cape Provincial and Regional officials are also often not sure about 
issues affecting local government in rural areas. 
3. These observations are based on ongoing research in parts of the Eastern Cape. 
Given the differentiated nature of South Africa, no attempt is made to 
generalise them. 
4. This gap between the "leadership" and the ordinary chiefs and headmen 
resident in rural areas was observed during extensive fieldwork in some rural 
areas in the Eastern Cape, and conferences and workshops attended involving 
the leadership of traditional authorities, a significant number of whom are no 
longer permanent residents of the rural areas. 
5. The Eastern Cape opted for the Transitional Representative Councils at the 
primary level of local government. 
6. See various reports by Calusa and Health Care Trust, two leading NGOs 
operating in the Xhalanga magisterial district, Eastern Cape. 
7. Department of Provincial Affairs and Constitutional Development (1997) 
Green Paper on Local Government. 
8. This is not often raised as a serious concern in most rural areas, except in the 
resort areas in communal land, for example, Coffee Bay and Hole-in-the-Wall 
in Mqanduli.
124 Fred Hendricks and Lungisile Ntsebeza 
9. The question of how land will be registered is currently receiving the attention 
of the Department of Land Affairs, and it is expected there will be legislation 
to this effect by the end of this year. 
10. This became clear during numerous interviews conducted with government 
officials at Provincial, Regional and Local Government levels by Erik Buiten 
and Lungisile Ntsebeza in our commissioned work for the Department of Land 
Affairs to "Resolve Land Tenure and Governance Issues in the Tshezi communal 
area, Mqanduli, Eastern Cape. 
11. The confusion runs through a wide spectrum, from illiterate to literate. 
12. This does not mean that traditional authorities do not have a role to play in the 
lives of rural people. As has been mentioned, they could, depending on their 
acceptance and popularity, still play an important role in the maintenance of 
law and order, dispute resolution, and so on. 
13. Mark Gevisser (1996) quotes a senior ANC constitutional negotiator, "It's not 
so much that our policy [towards traditional leaders] has changed, as ..." 
14. See paper by Ntsebeza quoted above, p. 157. 
15. See Daily Dispatch issues of late February and early March 1998. 
16. The contribution of the House of Traditional Leaders in the Eastern Cape to the 
White Paper workshop organised by the Department of Provincial Affairs and 
Constitutional Development in December 1997 wassimilarto those of Contralesa 
and the Council of Traditional Leaders. There are slight differences with the 
contribution of the House of Traditional Leaders in KwaZulu Natal. All Houses 
of Traditional Leaders and Contralesa are united in rejecting and resisting the 
provisions of the Constitution, existing legislation and emerging policies on 
rural local government. 
17. Traditional authorities from other provinces also participated in the negotiation 
process of the early 1990s. 
18. See House of Traditional Leaders (Eastern Cape) (1997). "Position Paper of 
Eastern Cape Traditional Leaders and their communities on a model for rural 
local government", adopted by the House of Traditional Leaders (Eastern 
Cape) on 16 October, 1997. 
19. What is not clear, though, is whetherthese bodies did not have people from rural 
areas. 
20. Traditional authorities in the Eastern Cape did not participate in the Local 
Government elections of 1 November 1995. 
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