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

Abstract

The Bantustans in South Africa during the Apartheid era engaged in the extension of their territories, as this entailed increased revenue from the Apartheid regime. The latter aimed to concentrate African populations within these Bantustans, which effectively divided them into ‘ethnic’ groups. The Bantustan project, orchestrated by the regime, sought to implement a ‘divide-and-rule’ strategy. The regime was acutely aware that if the African population were to unite, they could pose significant political and security threats; consequently, it was imperative to maintain divisions through the establishment of ‘ethnically’ segregated Bantustans. This study interrogates how the regime enticed Bantustan leaders with territorial extensions to enforce the pseudo-independence and freedom of Africans within these ethnic enclaves, which received financial backing from the regime. As demonstrated in this study, liberation movements accused Bantustan leaders of collaborating with the regime, thereby branding them as ‘stooges’ of the latter. The Bantustan leaders were neither mere dupes nor entirely independent actors; rather, they were constrained to operate within the politically violent confines of the Apartheid system. Their apprehension towards acting against the regime was driven by self-interest. However, by demanding and accepting territorial extensions, they intensified their subordination to the regime. Utilising primary sources alongside secondary interpretations regarding the Bantustans, this study examines the advantages and disadvantages of territorial extensions. It becomes evident that such collaboration undermined the unity of the African populace in their struggle against Apartheid. This study critiques the management of territorial extensions by both the regime and the Bantustan leaders, focusing specifically on the relationships fostered by these extensions, particularly in relation to the TBVC states.

1. 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’s Prime Minister. The NP strengthened its legitimacy by passing the Bantu Authorities Act of 1951. The Act aimed at ‘compensating’ the Bantu1 for its abolishment of the Native Representative Council (NRC), which had not been met since 1948. This new law allowed for the establishment of ‘Bantu Authorities’, which were tribal, regional, or territorial structures. Initiatives to achieve this began in 1959 following the passing of the ‘Promotion of Bantu Self-Government Act’, which abolished the indirect representation of Bantu in Pretoria, the regime’s headquarters. The Act divided the Bantu into ten ethnically separate groups and accelerated the process of territorial expansion to create Bantustans. This was one of the most odious policies of Apartheid, as it encouraged the territorial extension of the Bantustans.

These territories, known as Bantustans, lacked legitimacy, being a creation of the regime. The primary objective was to separate Africans from Whites and assign the former the responsibility of running their own so-called ‘independent’ governments. The term ‘Bantustans’, meaning ‘Bantu States’, was used by policymakers and administrators interchangeably with ‘Homelands’. These Bantustans were purported to be ‘sovereign states’ despite lacking any legal standing. Apartheid leaders frequently dangled extra land as a ‘carrot’ to encourage Bantustan leaders to apply for the so-called ‘independence’ of the African people. The question of dividing the country into smaller so-called ‘independent’ states was an endorsement of de-nationalising the country.

The history of the Bantustans in South Africa has not sufficiently examined the relevance of territorial expansion to the broader scholarship on the Bantustanisation 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, we seek to contribute to Bantustan historiography. By its very nature, the Bantustan project forced Africans into what others refer to as the ‘dumping grounds’ for those ‘surpluses’ deemed unfit to reside in the ‘White areas’ of South Africa. With this background, we argue that the Bantustan leaders were coerced by the regime to fulfil its mandate of successful ‘divide-and-rule’.

To justify the argument that the Bantustans were ‘dumping grounds’, Desmond (1971, p. 17) explained: ‘… dumping grounds for those beyond migrant work … The Bantustans could easily be exposed to hold a little more political life than what emanated from their chiefs and other bearers of ‘tribal’ traditional values’. Another scholar, Egerö (1991, p. 20), noted: ‘The Bantustan leaders represented an adaptation to the fact that Bantustan leaderships were no longer obedient watchdogs of their people. They changed their alliance in favour of the anti-Apartheid movements and the people in the Bantustans, or they risked being swept away by the strength of change blowing through the Bantustans’. It, thus, became clear that any territorial extension of the Bantustans assisted the Apartheid regime in further isolating the African population from the urban areas.

In this study, we highlight the following important observations: the question of territorial extension was deliberately promoted, confirming that access to additional land for the Bantustans was a framework for fast-tracking ‘pseudo-independence’. Consequently, patronage of the regime became the order of the day. The Bantustan strategy and the regime’s approach to territorial extension, given to the Bantustan leaders, proved to be self-defeating because access to financial power fostered maladministration and corruption on both sides, namely among Apartheid officials and Bantustan leaders. As a result, there were few reforms in the structural conditions of governance, leading to heightened subordination to the regime.

The extended territories, which were sometimes far from the Bantustan headquarters, saw repression widen into a general anti-Apartheid opposition. Lastly, the appointment of White civil servants as administrators in the Bantustans indicated that the Bantustan leaders could not be trusted to govern their own territories. This study focuses on how the Bantustan territorial extension from the 1950s to the 1980s empowered White capitalists and a smaller group of Bantustan representatives, who drew financial power to themselves under the guise of ‘self-determination’. We argue that these selfish endeavours exhibited the complex and contradictory policies of the regime.

This study seeks to examine the impact of territorial extension on the following Bantustans: Transkei formed in (1977), Bophuthatswana in (1978), Venda in (1979), and Ciskei in (1981). These territories, having accepted ‘pseudo-independence’, became known as the TBVC states. Although they accepted the so-called independence at different times, the impact and consequences of territorial extension were almost the same. We posit that there was a complex interplay of policy and rhetorical requests for such territorial extension.

Transkei was the first to accept this ‘pseudo-independence’ status, which meant that, in theory, the territory fulfilled the wishes of the NP regime’s policy that it was ‘wrong’ for Africans to remain permanently without the rights of ‘self-determination’ as envisaged by the Whites. This was condescending to the Africans, as they could not enjoy these rights within the framework of ‘white South Africa’ but only through designated territories designed to advance the Apartheid regime’s divide-and-rule policy. The territorial extension was, conversely, to ‘assist’ these Africans in ‘eveloping’ along tribal lines. Consequently, different ‘ethnic’ groups had to continue being segregated and developed separately.

Thus, the regime made it legal for Africans to become ‘citizens’ of their ‘independent’ Bantustans through another piece of legislation called the Bantu Homeland Citizenship Act of 1970. This Act did not grant 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 Whites; 1.9 million ‘Coloured’; 600,000 Asiatic (mainly Indians); and 13 million Africans. With this background in mind, it is important to highlight why territorial expansion was crucial for the Bantustan leaders. As mentioned earlier, there were financial benefits to the Bantustans from the regime, which were used to entice many Africans to be part of the Bantustans.

2. Methodological and Material Considerations

This study is embedded within the ambit of the South African struggle for social justice. In this instance, social justice is seen as equitable access to the country’s resources, including the spatial arrangements that divide the populace by the regime. Here, the Bantustans are viewed as having been an impediment to the achievement of social justice. This study is based on a wide range of primary and secondary sources (archives, newspaper articles, books, papers and government reports), i.e., the Umtata Archives, the University of Fort Hare (UFH) ANC Archives, Oliver Tambo Papers, and the National Archives. The NP’s documents published between 1970 and 1990 (including the Hansard 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. Annual reports provided valuable statistics on the number of businesses supported by the regime in the Bantustans. Speeches and press statements by the regime’s officials and the TBVC leaders also proved to be useful.

Non-governmental sources were also consulted. Documents from the ruling NP regime were used, revealing the connection between national politics and Bantustan politics. These documents provide in-depth information on the wrangles and disputes that arose from the rejection of Bantustan politics. State-controlled newspapers and editorial reviews by interest groups, Bantustan authorities, and NP politicians revealed various views and perspectives on Bantustan politics. Since the 1980s, development agencies focused on economic growth in the TBVC states produced detailed commissioned reports that were consulted for this study. Subjects covered by these sources included the general socio-economic conditions, small enterprises’ development, business linkages, and how these factors contributed to the economic development of the Bantustans and territorial expansion. Additionally, this study utilises data sources, such as books, journal articles, magazines, and organisational documents. In the subsequent section of this paper, in the literature review, these sources will be unpacked. As the authors of this paper, we became aware that some of the secondary sources proved to be biased.

3. Literature Review and the Bantustan Historiography

In this paper, we acknowledge the literature on the Bantustans in general and the TBVC states in particular. Emphasis is placed on the continuous relationship between the territories deemed part of the Bantustans, despite their remoteness from their headquarters. Within South Africa, the bureaucratic apparatus of the Apartheid regime continued to pressure leaders of the Bantustans to move towards declaring ‘independence’ from South Africa. Although the TBVC states were recognised by the regime, they remained unrecognised in the international community. They were viewed as ‘states’ within a state. Regarding Bantustan scholarship, there is a lacuna concerning their territorial extension. No study critically examines the successes and failures of the territorial monopolies of the Bantustans.

Using the existing literature, this section of this study examines the significance of territorial extension in perpetuating inequalities in wealth distribution during the Bantustan era under discussion. This literature presents a few major arguments; for example, the NP deployed White Afrikaner bureaucrats as senior government officials in the Bantustans (Twala 2018). Only a few groups among the TBVC residents became beneficiaries of the economic spin-offs resulting from the extended territories. The literature reviewed indicates little change in resource and wealth distribution, providing the context for the successes of the territorial extension. One of the contentious issues in the Bantustan discourse is the identification of beneficiaries and victims of Bantustan rule. As mentioned in the aforementioned sections, the regime enticed Bantustan leaders with territorial extensions accompanied by financial support. The larger the territory, the more funding was received from the Apartheid regime. The mentality and financial access of these leaders were almost identical across all the Bantustans.

The question of the territorial extension of the Bantustans has not been fully explored by historians in South Africa to examine its impact and contributions to the political and economic viability of these territories. Here, we acknowledge the works of a few scholars who have attempted to write on the economic viability of the Bantustans. For example, Phillips (2018) argues that, in most cases, whether 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 BaPedi) as a case study to examine why ‘development’ became an important framing concept for the Bantustan project.

Another work is by Cowley and Lemon (1986, pp. 252–55). They discuss the establishment of economic development corporations in the Bophuthatswana Bantustan, including 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 analysis of the Bophuthatswana corporations, Manson and Mbenga (2014, p. 124) examine how, during the 1970s, economic development—particularly from the territory’s mining sector—impacted economic growth. They conclude that economic growth and industrial expansion in Bophuthatswana were concentrated in specific areas, particularly within the mining regions.

Sukude Matoti and Lungisile Ntsebeza’s chapter entitled Rural Resistance in Mpondoland and Thembuland, 1960–1963 highlights the resistance that emerged in the former Transkei and Ciskei territories. This resistance was triggered by the regime’s introduction of measures known as ‘betterment schemes’ and the promulgation of the 1951 Bantu Authorities Act. The authors state: ‘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, p. 177); see also (Hammond-Tooke 1975, p. 471; Ntsebeza 2002; Umtata Archives 1957). In response, many Africans chose to slaughter their livestock rather than surrender them to the White farmers.

4. The Research Findings

This section of this study highlights the findings regarding the entrenchment of the Bantustans for the South Africans. It discusses the territorial extension and its impact on those who resided both inside and outside the Bantustans. Additionally, it examines the responses to the dilemma of territorial expansion that faced South Africa, a country already divided along racial and tribal lines.

4.1. The Entrenchment of the Bantustanisation of South Africa

Blausten (1976, p. 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 and should, therefore, always be physically separated from them and treated accordingly. Departing from Blausten’s argument, we contend in this paper that the entrenchment of Bantustanisation in South Africa hinged on the process of acquiring land for the extension of these Bantustans. In pursuing territorial extension, the Apartheid regime co-opted 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 corresponded to their ethnicity. This was a false assumption, as other African countries did not experience racial segregation in the same way as Apartheid South Africa.

While pursuing this, the regime disregarded, in one way or another, the physical distance between the headquarters of the Bantustans and the created ‘enclaves’ that constituted an extended territory. In return for the establishment of these ‘enclaves’ under the control of the Bantustans, the regime succeeded in the ethnic segregation of the Bantu masses, which allowed for financial control over the Bantustan leaders. The regime made political calculations that territorial extension would lead to reliance on it for political and financial sustainability, turning Bantustan leaders into political ‘stooges’. Despite these advances by the regime, as shown in the subsequent sections of this paper, it is also worth noting that territorial extension targeted not only those Bantustans who later opted for ‘pseudo-independence’ but also those who rejected it outright.

The extension of the Bantustan territories, sometimes located far from the African populations they were intended for, aimed to secure cheap labour for White areas adjacent to these territories. As previously mentioned, the allocation of additional land to the Bantustans not only provided the leaders with limited fiscal ‘independence’ from the Apartheid regime but also granted them greater electoral influence and power within these ‘fiefdoms’. Essentially, by providing more land, the regime sought to further isolate the African masses and balkanise them through ethnic and linguistic associations. This strategy was also intended to curtail the infiltration of these areas by the banned liberation movements, such as the ANC, Pan-Africanist Congress of Azania (PAC), and South African Communist Party (SACP), which, in the late 1970s, explored the possibility of establishing underground operations in the Bantustans.

The regime demonstrated a double standard in this regard; in 1974, then Prime Minister of South Africa John Vorster stated that granting ‘independence’ to the Bantustans would not be accompanied by the extension of land (Southall 1982, p. 24; Stultz 1979). As will be demonstrated in the latter sections of this paper, this promise was never fulfilled. The Tomlinson Commission, instituted by the regime, recommended ‘… an ultimate, complete separation between Europeans and Bantu’ (Department of Native Affairs/UG 61 1956). The Commission’s Report of 1955, which remained the economic blueprint for the Bantustans, estimated that once the ‘native’ land had been acquired, it would comprise approximately 13.7% of South Africa. The report emphasised the industrial and agricultural development of the Bantustans and estimated that, if developed along the recommended lines, they could support a population of about 10 million within 25 to 30 years. Furthermore, it recommended that to provide additional employment and decentralise white industry, industries should be set up ‘within’ or near the Bantustans.

The Commission’s report outlined plans to create ethnic ‘homelands’, or Bantustans, and urged for increased funding for the development of these areas. The aim was to make them economically viable (Darwin 2009, pp. 607–9). Notwithstanding the costly nature of territorial extension, the Commission promoted and advocated for industrialisation within the reserves and the consolidation of the 264 scattered pieces of land reserved for Bantu occupancy, where separate political development towards some form of modern autonomy could occur (Karis and Gerhart 2013, p. 72; Cobley 2003, p. 133). Not all people inside and outside the Bantustans whose land was part of these territories agreed to this approach. Some held different viewpoints regarding the offers of land transfers.

In response to this, those opposed organised 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 among the formidable forces against the independence of Venda (Kgatla 2016, p. 129). Although the intention behind the transfer of land was to legitimise the Bantustan system of government, some of these territories became, instead, ‘springboards’ for resistance and political activism against the system and regime.

Meanwhile, at its second national consultative conference held in Kabwe, Zambia, in 1985, the ANC noted with great concern the regime’s policy of separate development, which resulted in Bantustans and the so-called independent states (Sechaba 1985). The ANC further argued the following:

The ‘grand design’ of Apartheid was to confine Africans to rural areas within a number of spurious ‘homelands’ that were allocated to them against their wishes and without any consultation. These ‘homelands’, or Bantustans, serve as pools of cheap labour for white industries, which can be utilised as needed. Their economies are entirely dependent on the regime and the remittances of their migrant workers. The pitiful black administrators derive their puppet status from the Apartheid regime, rather than from any democratic vote by the citizens of the Bantustans (University of Fort Hare (UFH) ANC Archives 1987).

The regime soon realised that the approach of providing additional land could not be sustained, as the demands from the Bantustan leaders grew enormous and the cost of purchasing such land became exorbitant. Complicating matters were the daunting challenges of environmental degradation faced by the Bantustans. Amidst this scramble for territorial expansion, conflicts and tensions over territorial dominance emerged in some Bantustans. The work of Laurine Platzky and Cherry Walker on The Surplus People Project is particularly noteworthy for two reasons: the project highlighted the cosmetic nature of how the regime addressed territorial extension to the Bantustans through its settlement policy. This supposed extension of land should be understood as a central element in the structure of Apartheid, aimed at keeping Africans away from White areas. This purported land extension was a deliberate pursuit of land dispossession of African South Africans. With the ‘dangling of land’ offered to Bantustan leaders, they were generally too fearful to resist the regime’s ‘divide-and-rule’ strategy.

4.2. Territorial Extension: The ‘Grand’ Design and Economic Growth

With the developments of ‘dorpies’ (small towns) in the areas adjacent to the Bantustans, there were clear contradictions in the regime’s approach. Accordingly, the regime embraced the separate development policy as an ethnically acceptable alternative to multiracialism, completely rejecting the latter. The regime was convinced that South Africa did not consist of ‘one nation’ but was a ‘multinational’ state. To grant these Bantustans industrialisation ‘freedom’, Hendrik Verwoerd remained adamant that White industrialists should not be allowed in the Bantustans, except in an advisory capacity.

To mitigate the above, Verwoerd initiated the ingenious border area policy, which allowed White-controlled factories to be established on the borders of the Bantustans but not inside them. Through this, the regime hoped to create jobs for the inhabitants of the Bantustans. Interestingly, initially, most of the regime’s economic efforts in the Bantustans were directed towards agricultural initiatives. 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, p. 28; Evans 2012, pp. 117–37).

Halbach (1988, pp. 519–20) argued against the establishment of so-called border industries and claimed that the process had little to no effect on the development of the Bantustans. He also lamented that the project for the industrialisation of the Bantustans themselves, on an ‘agency basis’, turned out to be almost a total failure. On 1 April 1982, decentralisation incentives were put into place, which included transport rebates of 40% to 60%; cash grants of 80% to 95% of total wages for a period of seven years, with a maximum for workers of ZAR 30 to 110 per month; interest subsidies 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; subsidies on electricity to match the corresponding level in established industrial areas; subsidies for training courses for the black workforce regarding formal training; compensation for relocation costs up to a certain amount; and granting of a 4% to 10% price advantage concerning state tenders. Some progress was made in providing employment for the inhabitants of the Bantustans in the small towns’ industries.

The regime also offered many generous concessions to the White industrialists residing in the smaller towns adjacent to the Bantustans. Criticising this approach in general, as well as the purported misconception of development by the regime, Bertil Egerö describes the Bantustans as “the cornerstone of separate development under apartheid” (Egerö 1991, p. 7). Egerö argues for the centrality of the ironic ambiguity of racial conceptions in the idea of development. In this paper, we tend to agree with Egerö that this “development” was designed to perpetuate the separation of Africans from Whites. Verwoerd argued that giving Bantustans additional land and economic “independence” would allow them to avoid being “contaminated” and to remain racially and ethnically pure. However, Verwoerd’s successor, Vorster, disagreed, as he was prepared to see White industrialists establishing themselves within the Bantustans.

He contended that this approach was a prerequisite for the economic growth of the Bantustans. In doing so, Vorster conceded that he had inherited Verwoerd’s political rejection of a permanent subordinate status for the Bantu, in favour of separate development. He refined the policy by declaring that, under his approach, the Bantustans would enjoy the same sort of independence as Botswana, Lesotho, and Swaziland (BNA 1968b). Supporting this view, Piet Koornhof, a former Minister of Immigration, stated: “The best tonic for Bantustan development is a mixture of White capital and Black labour” (Denis 2022). Regarding this matter, Oliver Nyambi and Rodwell Makombe refer to the Bantustans as telling sites and symbols of what they term “domestic colonialism”. They wrote: “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).

4.3. ‘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 regime, contrary evidence existed. For example, as early as 5 November 1969, the Prime Minister of the Federated Chamber of Industries in Britain 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 1968a). This statement signalled the ‘hidden agenda’ of the architects of the Bantustan system, supported by countries such as Britain, to avoid fully investing in the economic growth of these Bantustans. Minister of Bantu Administration and Development, M.C. Botha, echoed these sentiments by asserting: ‘It is a very dangerous and unacceptable idea to want, on the one hand, to send the Bantu back to the homelands and, on the other hand, for the white public not to be willing to provide the help and leadership necessary to raise the capability of the Bantu there’ (BNA 1968a).

The development of industries in the ‘dorpies’ surrounding the Bantustans served as a supplementary means for realising the ultimate ideal of enforcing separate developments as the cornerstone of the regime’s ‘divide-and-rule’ strategy. These ‘dorpies’ generated new forms of politics among what could be regarded as new constituencies for Bantustan leaders, as well as for the regime. They also provided political spaces for Black Consciousness (BC) mobilization in the 1970s and for the United Democratic Front (UDF)/ANC organisations in the 1980s (Gibbs 2010). Even though the growth of the ‘dorpies’ adjacent to Bantustans was initiated by the regime, it remained sceptical about the broader economic powers these ‘dorpies’ could have.

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

Halbach (1988, p. 508) was not confident in the approach to making the Bantustans economically viable. He further noted:

From an economic viewpoint, however, these regions have remained overcrowded, peripheral, and poverty-stricken despite some attempts at development. Their economic significance has increasingly been reduced to that of a labour reservoir and a dumping ground for surplus labour, an implicit role they have always played. Without genuine economic and political reforms—such as the free movement of capital, labour, and settlement within a framework of a less state-controlled free enterprise economy—it will likely be impossible for the homelands to escape the vicious circle of political powerlessness and economic calamity.

During the late 1960s, the regime demonstrated considerable determination to achieve economic progress but made it clear that there were limits to the concessions it would make. 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 1968a). This statement clearly indicated that the regime never intended to relinquish any piece of land to Bantustans without maintaining some claim and subtle jurisdiction over it. Again, on 5 November 1969, the 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. Expanding on this and adding another controversial dimension, he suggested: ‘For more sophisticated types of industry which could not be taken over by Africans in 25 years, the contract would be longer’ (BNA 1968b).

4.4. Apartheid: Bantustans Policy of Leniency for Economic Growth

In a smokescreen for the compensation of the Bantustan workforce used in White areas, Koornhof proposed the imposition of a ‘development tax’ on industrialists in these neighbouring White areas for migratory Bantustan workers. He suggested payment per head for each Bantustan worker employed in the White areas (BNA 1968b). From the regime’s side, the Industrial Conciliation Act was to be suspended for Bantustan workers. The regime argued that this would allow White employers to disregard the job reservation that existed in South Africa. Under job reservation, the regime legally reserved certain skilled grades for Whites (Kenny 2020, pp. 500–21). The implication was that in the Bantustans, any African worker would be able to perform a job that, if he were in the White area of South Africa, would be reserved for a White employee. The suspension of wage determination was also seen by Bantustan leaders as a progressive move. The regime contended that workers would not have to adhere to 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 1968a, South Africa).

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

For the regime, focusing on the growth points of these towns outside the Bantustans had the potential, in the long run, to erode the anticipated growth of the Bantustans themselves. If the Bantustans’ ‘citizens’ were working in these towns, in most cases, they would likely spend their hard-earned wages and salaries there rather than in the Bantustans, as they would be spending significant time there for work purposes. Thus, this would boost the economies of these towns rather than those of the Bantustans.

4.5. The Rise of the White Capital in the TBVC States Through the Apartheid Economic Growth Policy

This section deals in depth with the rise of White capital and capitalists under the pretext of nurturing the economic growth of the TBVC states and their extended territories. Whites’ involvement in the Bantustan Development Corporations (BDC) was not surprising, as they became board members and influential in the distribution of money to the public sector. The existence of boards for corporations comprised pre-determined structures within the Bantustans. Initially, this aimed to provide an economic boost for the areas surrounding the Bantustans, but it elicited negative results, as major contractual work was undertaken by those from the White areas who were associated with the regime. Viewed in this context, it proved counterproductive, as these Whites were involved in managing the budgets and privileges associated with the Bantustans. Commenting on this, Giliomee (1985) succinctly stated: ‘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’. In addition to being board members, White Afrikaner males were seconded into the Bantustans to manage their affairs as Heads of Departments. This gave the regime an upper hand in politically and economically controlling the Bantustans (Twala 2018, pp. 78–100).

As mentioned previously, 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. The TNIP and its leader supported the regime’s objectives of using Transkei as a model for advancing this pseudo-independence. Despite being accorded this status, the regime technically continued to maintain control over the Transkei. In justification of this, Stone (1969, p. 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 on 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). Phillips (2017) argued that these development corporations unfortunately created space for the emergence of capitalists and the takeover of formerly White-owned businesses.

In Transkei, Butterworth and Umtata, the capital of Transkei, were still zoned into White and Black sections. Butterworth was partially a White area within the Transkei. It was, therefore, not surprising that the latter two growth points were in African areas, which technically fell into Bantustan zones. Although this was purportedly aimed at bringing economic growth to these areas, the opportunity was simultaneously seized and exploited by White entrepreneurs who commuted freely from White areas to conduct business in the Bantustans. With the granting of ‘pseudo-independence’ by the regime, a new institutional environment emerged, leading to 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 involving South African tourism capital and the leadership of the Bantustan (Sixaba and Rogerson 2023, p. 1; Rogerson and Rogerson 2023, pp. 1–16). This was also confirmed by Aerni-Flessner (2024, pp. 47–67), who stated that the regime supported tourism ventures, including branches in Transkei.

In Bophuthatswana, a peculiar territorial extension existed. The ‘enclaves’ were scattered across the country, all aligned with the Bophuthatswana government under Lucas Mangope. The Bantustan had seven ‘enclaves’ under its jurisdiction, constituting a scattered ‘patchwork of enclaves’, spread across what was then the Cape Province, Orange Free State, and Transvaal. Its seat of government was in Mmabatho. Industrial development in the 12 magisterial districts of Bophuthatswana began in 1970. By 31 March 1977, there were more than 80 factories employing 8600 people, representing a capital investment of ZAR 66.1 million. The Bophuthatswana National Development Corporation (BNDC) and the Corporation for Economic Development (previously known as the Bantu Investment Corporation) were the principal bodies responsible for attracting and expanding the industrial sector (Hattingh 1977, pp. 213–19). In this context, the White entrepreneurs benefitted, despite the regime’s claims that the Bantustans and adjacent areas should be the only beneficiaries. Temba, near Hammanskraal (north of Pretoria, which was part of Bophuthatswana), became the first target of intrusion by White entrepreneurs in the area.

As in the case of Transkei, Bophuthatswana also attracted many people to gamble in the territory, as gambling was permitted there. Manson and Mbenga (2014, p. 164) wrote:

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

In another work published by Manson and Mbenga (2010, p. 672), they highlighted the dearth of industrialisation and the endemic corruption under Mangope:

Mangope treated Mmabatho, his capital, as a personal fiefdom, lavishing it with imposing public buildings, while the rural periphery remained relatively under-developed. However, certain nodes that posed no opposition also benefitted from this construction. This had two consequences: firstly, it led to the construction of a large number of ‘white elephants’, and secondly, it opened the door to a spate of profligate corruption. Among the worst examples were the Mmabatho Stadium, 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 two examples above illustrate how many of the Bantustans established national development initiatives that ultimately became ‘milking cows’ for those in positions of political power within these territories. Although acts of corruption were denied by all those in power, corruption in many of these Bantustans was endemic, and those who dared to criticise the leadership were dealt with harshly. Jones (1997, pp. 155–59) notes that in order to create the façade of imaginary sovereignty, many Bantustan leaders established ‘national’ development corporations to pursue economic projects that could be branded as ‘national’ endeavours.

Venda, under the leadership of Chief Minister Patrick Mphephu, was not mired in the controversy of territorial extension. An example of this can be found in the April 1976 National Assembly (NA) debates in South Africa, when Helen Suzman asked the Minister of Bantu Administration and Development a series of questions: What is the total area of the Venda homeland, and how many separate areas does it comprise? What will the final area of the homeland be, 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 economically active citizens are working in and outside the homeland? The Minister diplomatically dismissed these queries by indicating that there were no definitive answers to be given (Hansard 1976, p. 884). Suzman represented a series of liberal and centre-left opposition parties during her 36-year tenure in the Whites-only NP-controlled House of Assembly.

With the introduction of the local government system in 1951 and the 1962 territorial authorities, Mphephu became the first chairperson. Like many other Bantustans, Venda’s Legislative Assembly (LA) was constituted in 1971. This was a step towards establishing ‘independence’ for the Bantustan. Executive power was vested in the Chief Minister, who was also referred to as the ‘Executive President’. Mphephu had the authority to appoint nine Ministers from among the members of the NA. Ironically, these Ministers oversaw 19 government departments and two state corporations, namely, the Venda Development Corporation (VDC) and the Venda Agricultural Corporation. Initially, Venda functioned as a self-governing state with only six departments: Chief Minister and Finance; Interior; Works; Education; Justice; and Agriculture and Forestry, with the Legislative Assembly (LA) seated in Sibasa.

Under Mphephu, electoral malpractice and corruption became rampant, yet he continued to enjoy support from his Venda constituencies. To demonstrate his power and influence over Venda as a Bantustan, he was declared ‘Life President’ of Venda in 1983. Obsessed with power and the backing he received from the regime, it was not surprising that, in August 1986, Mphephu declared Venda a one-party state, allegedly due to the adverse effects of practising party politics. He also unleashed a reign of terror against anyone who criticised his governance, leading to detentions without trial that were reminiscent of the Apartheid regime in South Africa.

In 1978, demonstrating his political manoeuvring, he pushed for the amendment of the 1973 Proclamation R12 to increase the number of seats in the Legislative Assembly from 18 to 42. This proclamation allocated 12 elected seats to the electoral division of Sibasa, resulting in an increase in the total number of Legislative Assembly members from 60 to 84. Political contestation in this Bantustan was, therefore, primarily between the Venda Independent Peoples’ Party (VIPP) and Mphephu’s Venda National Party (VNP). Mphephu effectively used the latter to mobilise traditional leaders to support him (Nevondo 2000, p. 67).

To effectively combat the unemployment crisis in Venda, the Bantustan authorities sought to raise the standard of living and develop the region by establishing the Venda Development Corporation (VDC) in 1979. This was followed in 1982 by the establishment of the Agricultural Development Corporation of Venda. Collectively, these institutions were known as the Venda National Development Corporation (VNDC), with the former focused on urban and industrial development and the latter on rural development. Their mandate involved initiating several projects and programmes throughout the Bantustan. One notable and successful project was the partnership between the former Agricultural Corporation of Venda (Agriven), representing the ‘government’ of Venda, and the private company Sapekoe, which established the Tshivhase Tea Estate near Duthuni, approximately 11 kilometres north-west of Sibasa (Adjei 1995, p. 4). Interestingly, the VDC published a journal called Shuma (meaning ‘work’). This journal became Mphephu’s mouthpiece for highlighting the successes of the VDC (National Archives n.d.). Regarding industrialisation, there were also concerns about the involvement of Whites. In one instance, Professor Jan Lange, an Economics professor from the University of the Orange Free State (UOFS), was tasked with an ambitious scheme to establish an industrial park in Venda.

The industrial park, which would be the first of its kind in the Bantustans, would comprise various light industrial plants, a training centre, and a control service unit. The latter would provide common technical, purchasing, and administrative facilities, giving industries the advantages of economies of scale and converting what would otherwise be fixed costs into viable costs. With this scheme, Lange estimates it could create 1000 new jobs for Venda. The cost of setting up the scheme was estimated at ZAR 2.5 million, of which ZAR 1 million had already been pledged by the South African Bantu Trust. We contend that it was predictable that the main beneficiaries of this scheme would primarily be the White South Africans. The project, led by a White male Afrikaner from South Africa, was unlikely to provide significant financial benefits for the Venda people. For example, according to Lange, he intended to attract firms already operating in other areas to send semi-manufactured materials to Sibasa for further processing.

The Railways had already agreed to provide three mechanical horses and seven semi-trailers daily to transport goods to and from the Reef at 11.75 cents per kilogram. Furthermore, he claimed to have secured the interest of about ten manufacturers, mainly in the large manufacturing engineering field, who were willing to use the industrial park as part of their production lines. Another significant challenge for the Venda government was the permanent status of Whites as residents of this Bantustan. The Minister of Interior, T. Netshimdupse, had indicated earlier, when introducing the establishment of the Venda capital town, that Whites would only be allowed to visit the town and not reside there permanently, as had been the case in the past. These sentiments were echoed by the opposition leader Baldwin Mudau of the Venda Independence People’s Party, who also expressed dissatisfaction with Whites living in Venda permanently. Quoted by the Rand Daily Mail (1975), he noted:

Whites should not be allowed to remain permanently in their homeland. The residences of the Venda cabinet ministers should be relocated from the mosquito-infested valley to the hillsides where the White officials reside. Every time I see the nice houses of the Whites there, my heart bleeds. Let us put an end to this White permanence in the Black homelands.

In 1981, when Ciskei accepted ‘independence’ under the leadership of Chief Minister Lennox Sebe, he ambitiously outlined plans to make the territory economically and politically vibrant. His goals included the establishment of a ‘free society’ where the Ciskei people would live in peace and harmony, the introduction of ‘sound democratic’ governance, and the creation of a solid economic base through investments in agriculture and industry (Cadman 1986, p. 7). Ciskei’s situation regarding economic growth and territorial expansion was no different from other Bantustans. It is noteworthy that by 1973, the territory had only two small factories located in Alice, employing a limited number of people. However, by 1986, there were almost 22,000 industrial workers in Ciskei employed in over 100 small factories. Scholars such as Alan Hirsch described this industrialisation as an ‘economic miracle’ for the Bantustans.

In providing an academic explanation for this phenomenon, Hirsch identified three phases associated with the economic boom. The first phase, from 1974 to 1978, saw economic growth characterised by the establishment of small, labour-intensive factories. The success of this phase relied on loans granted by the Ciskei National Development Corporation and the Corporation for Economic Development (Hirsch 1986, pp. 187–189).

According to Hirsch, the second phase involved the introduction of a regional development strategy in the early 1980s, which boosted decentralisation incentives and ultimately benefited Ciskei. This strategy attracted companies such as Anglo-American, De Beers, the Dutch Van Leer, and Taiwanese factories to Ciskei. These factories established labour-intensive clothing, textile, and metal-working plants. In just three years, the number of factories and industrial jobs in Ciskei increased by over 200% and 400%, respectively. Incentives provided by the Ciskei government contributed significantly to the rapid increase in factories and attracted investors.

Another factor was the availability of cheap, unorganised labour in the Bantustan. The high unemployment rate deterred people from joining trade unions, a situation exacerbated by the Ciskei government’s ban on all trade union activities. Hirsch (1986, p. 189) elaborates on this point:

Wages in the Ciskei are generally set at around 50 percent of those in East London, which are themselves about 25 percent below South Africa’s national average. Trade unions were never permitted to operate in the Ciskei, and South African Allied Workers’ Union (SAAWU) was officially banned in 1983. Ironically, trade unions gained strength across the border in East London during the early 1980s. As a result, several East London firms either relocated some operations to the Ciskei or, in the case of Western Province Preserving, moved their entire factory across the border.

The above-mentioned incentives that led to Ciskei’s economic boom also benefited small towns such as Dimbaza, which housed many of the newly established factories in the Ciskei Bantustan. By the late 1970s, undercapitalised plants invested in the town, attracting 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 occurred in other Bantustans discussed above, Ciskei’s generosity was not immune to abuse and exploitation by unscrupulous entrepreneurs seeking quick profits. These companies devised a scheme to claim more incentives as they employed more workers. Hirsch explains this abuse and corruption by Disa/Engelhardt at Mdantsane, which submitted a proposal to the Ciskei government in 1984 to employ 2510 workers, of whom 2470 were to be Black Ciskeians. However, by September of that year, 3190 were employed. The companies pressured the managing director to increase the numbers to 5000 by November 1984. This unbecoming behaviour allowed them to claim the inflated numbers of employees while paying them considerably less than what they would be claiming from the government, thus pocketing the difference (Hirsch 1986, p. 190).

The third phase occurred when the Ciskei government decided to address the aforementioned corruption by appointing a commission of inquiry known as the Swart Commission. After a thorough investigation, the commission made the following recommendations: the exemption of small industries (employing fewer than 20 people) from all existing laws and regulations, other than those stipulated in a simplified Companies Act; the abolition of all company taxes; and the deregistration of controls over working conditions, health, and pollution for all businesses (Hirsch 1986, p. 189). 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 return migration from White rural areas (Cadman 1986, p. 7). As reflected above, the scholarly works of Halbach, Egerö, Manson and Mbenga, Cadman, and Hirsch provide more detailed information on the issues surrounding the TBVC industrialisation attempts and how these were thwarted by unscrupulous and corrupt officials from these Bantustans and the regime.

5. Conclusions

In the early 1970s, politicians in South Africa, both African and White, were convinced that agricultural development and industrial decentralisation would make the Bantustans self-sustainable and economically attractive to those residing outside these territories. We argue in this article that, although this sounded lucrative, these developments offered little benefit to the Bantustans and the extended territories adjacent to them. The territorial extension of the Bantustans demonstrates that the purported Bantu area development was promoted through two significant channels: the Bantu entrepreneurs themselves and 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, which impacted the economic growth of the Bantustans. Initially, only a limited number of light industries were developed, mainly through the initiatives of the development corporations. By offering land through territorial extension, the intention was also to encourage White industrialists to participate in the economic development of the Bantustans, which proved somewhat successful.

However, as shown in this article, more benefits were directed towards White entrepreneurs at the expense of African ones. The advantages for White industrialists included, among others, subsidised transport, the availability of cheap labour from the Bantustans, low-interest loans for buildings and machinery over the long term, tax concessions, and the provision of infrastructure and essential services such as electricity and water, as well as buildings for rental purposes. The diversion of political aspirations to the so-called development of the Bantustans was merely a smokescreen created by the Apartheid regime to maintain White dominance in South Africa. Politically connected elites in the Bantustans, particularly those linked to the Apartheid regime, assumed positions of power. This led to some Bantustan leaders becoming repressive towards those who dared to challenge them.