INTRODUCTIONFootnote ¹

More than 20 years after the democratic transition in South Africa, the role of chieftaincy and its power and legitimacy in a democratic state are again the subject of intense debate. The following quotations give an idea of the conflicting views and the significance of the general debate – the first is from the South African sociologist Lungisile Ntsebeza, while the second is quoted from a speech by South African President Jacob Zuma in 2013:

Disagreement on the legitimacy and power of chieftaincy also prevails in the more recent literature on the relationship between chieftaincy and the state in post-apartheid South Africa. The currently dominant perspective (see inter alia Maloka & Gordon Reference Maloka and Gordon1996; Myers Reference Myers2008; LiPuma & Koelble Reference LiPuma and Koelble2009) claims that chieftaincy is despotic and gives at least two differing explanations for the alleged despotism: some argue that chieftaincy was and is instrumentalised by the (comparably strong) state, whereas others maintain that the (comparably weak) state decided to transfer considerable power to chieftaincy after 1994.

The despotism perspective is generally based on Mamdani's (Reference Mamdani1996) arguments on ‘decentralised despotism’, who considers chieftaincy an extension of the (post)colonial state. Mamdani argues that chiefs in colonial Africa and in South Africa during the apartheid era controlled the rural population by means of decentralised and despotic rule. The post-apartheid state continued with the system of indirect rule, and chieftaincy is an obstacle for democratisation that has to be overcome (Mamdani Reference Mamdani1996: 43–8).Footnote ² Ntsebeza (Reference Ntsebeza2005) claims in a similar vein that the democratic South African state missed the opportunity to abolish chieftaincy after the democratic transition. Chiefs wield power over their subjects, but not legitimate power, since they receive the resources of power from the state: ‘What seems clear is that whatever legitimacy traditional authorities have is derived largely from the state support they enjoy, rather than from their popularity among rural people under their jurisdiction’ (Ntsebeza Reference Ntsebeza and Ruiters2011: 89). Colonialism and apartheid damaged the legitimacy of chieftaincy, and the later Traditional Leadership and Governance Framework Act (TLGF Act) from 2003 and the Communal Land Rights Act (CLR Act) from 2004 led South Africa back to the ‘homeland system’. As illegitimate local leaders, chiefs play a crucial role in land control and local governance; the two acts thus compromise the democratic project and are not about upholding the legitimacy of chieftaincy (Ntsebeza Reference Ntsebeza and Ruiters2011: 75–6). From Ntsebeza's point of view, chiefs could only survive the apartheid era because they were backed by the state and received the authority to take action against critics and opponents. The power to control land also contributed to the survival of chieftaincy. Chiefs were feared by their communities, rather than being respected, and it was almost impossible for subordinates to exert control.

Whereas Ntsebeza perceives chieftaincy as a tool in the hands of the state to establish its rule in rural and peri-urban areas, Crais (Reference Crais2006) argues contrary to this, saying that the power of the state and its capacity are limited. As a consequence, a ‘space of state ungovernance’ came into being, for example in the former Transkei. The state is confronted with its own weakness, either due to the lack of will or the lack of institutional capacity. The way out for the ANC in the post-apartheid era was to co-opt chiefs and to rely on chieftaincy in local governance. In doing this, however, the ANC blocked alternative ways to think about history and politics in South Africa: ‘Custom, in short, becomes the political trump card’ (Crais Reference Crais2006: 735). For Crais, both the TLGF Act and the CLR Act are a critical juncture in the process of state building and democratisation in post-apartheid South Africa. The fact that chieftaincy was able to assert its rule on the local level refers to the relative weakness of the state and to its willingness to rely on political clientelism in the future.

From a second perspective, however, chieftaincy is rather intermediary than despotic, stressing the role of chiefs between the local and the national level (and increasingly the transnational level). This article contributes to this more differentiating perspective, arguing that the state, the ANC and chieftaincy occasionally cooperate in local administration and politics, but that they also compete for power and legitimacy in other instances.

This is not to say that chiefs in contemporary South Africa are exemplary liberal democrats and that chieftaincy as an institution has become ‘civil’ – at least not in the sense in which Trutz von Trotha (Reference Trotha1996) outlined the concept of ‘civil chieftaincy’ 20 years ago. Trotha (Reference Trotha1996: 82) argues that the ‘colonial and postcolonial principles of devolution, hierarchy and the administrative district changed the bases of power and authority of the African chiefdom’, with it becoming dependent on the central government and administration throughout sub-Saharan Africa. However, chiefs were and still are able to control state interventions in local politics; at the same time, they are the key for local citizens to access the clientelist networks of the state elite (Trotha Reference Trotha1996: 83–4). This intermediary position between the state and the local provides chiefs with specific opportunities to gain power, but also implies certain problems and conflicts, as it requires the reconciliation of two opposing loyalties: being an administrative agent of the state on the one hand, and being a representative of local interests on the other (Rouveroy van Nieuwaal Reference Rouveroy van Nieuwaal, Dijk and Rouveroy van Nieuwaal1999: 23). ‘Inevitably’, claim West & Kloeck-Jenson (Reference West and Kloeck-Jenson1999: 475) when arguing about ‘traditional authority’ in Mozambique, ‘the interests of those below him and those above were directly opposed, and the man-in-the-middle became the embodiment of political tension, the body in which domination and resistance co-existed’. According to Logan (Reference Logan2009: 106), chiefs have to ‘balance their dependence on local populations for legitimacy, or at least respect, with their desire for the recognition of higher authorities’ resulting in ‘“Janus-faced” traditional authorities who were simultaneously respected and suspected by local populations'.

In Trotha's view, the road to a more democratic and representative political order is not to get rid of chieftaincy, but rather to transform the institution towards what he calls ‘civil chieftaincy’. On the local level, it should form the ‘central place of public dispute’ (Trotha Reference Trotha1996: 99) in which conflicting interests and ideas are discussed in a public forum without excluding members of the respective community. Hence, a chief should serve as the ‘leader and guardian of public debate’ (Trotha Reference Trotha1996: 99). In relation to the national level, local interests need to be defended by the chief. He is the advocate of the local against the central administration and government; the chief may thus become the legitimate representative of local interests.

With regard to current political dynamics in KwaZulu-Natal, Williams (Reference Williams2010: 19) argues that neither state institutions nor chieftaincy are able to exercise exclusive control on the local level and both ‘are forced to share sovereignty’. Their interaction reveals a syncretism of power relations and overlapping sources of legitimacy. Williams distinguishes between two forms of legitimacy: performance legitimacy refers to the ways in which power is enacted and how it is evaluated by society. The crucial point is whether rulers and their followers agree (or not) that the political system functions for a common interest. According to Williams, although performance legitimacy is insufficient in the long run, it does supply rulers with acceptance in the short run if they can deliver political and economic services and goods such as infrastructural development (Williams Reference Williams2010: 28–30). Moral legitimacy means the norms, values and symbols of a society which guide and evaluate political action. One example Williams mentions is the proverb ‘a chief is a chief through the people’. He argues that it is not just political rhetoric, but that people use the saying and the implicit norms and values to evaluate the performance and behaviour of chiefs and headmen (Williams Reference Williams2010: 26).Footnote ³

In her study on chieftaincy in Sekhukhune (Limpopo), Oomen (Reference Oomen2005: 238) illustrates ‘an institutionally plural landscape in which a colourful variety of actors [state officials, chiefs and headmen, civic organisations, or churches] compete, or sometimes cooperate, over local power’. Her investigation of people's perspectives on the legitimacy of chieftaincy points to four main sources of legitimation: performance, tradition, state recognition and a default need for rule (2005: 193–8). Although, in her account, local variations in the power and legitimacy of chieftaincy are significant and very much dependent on specific local actors, the institution of chieftaincy as such appears to be broadly accepted and intermediary rather than delegitimised and despotic.

Oomen's study is part of a perspective that widens the view beyond the question of statehood, to global forces such as the rise of neoliberal capitalism and the increasing significance of transnational discourses on cultural and indigenous rights (see also Comaroff & Comaroff Reference Comaroff and Comaroff2009). Both processes open a window for chieftaincy to consolidate its power and legitimacy. This also means that the intermediary role of chieftaincy has been extended: chiefs nowadays also control and mediate the relations between local citizens and transnational actors and institutions. Kyed & Buur (Reference Kyed, Buur, Buur and Kyed2007) see a link between retraditionalisation on the one hand and a global discourse on neoliberalisation on the other. Privatisation and liberalisation remove the state from the local population and create a niche that chieftaincy is sometimes able to occupy. Restructural programmes create new opportunities for chiefs to appropriate (transnational) economic resources. The Congress of Traditional Leaders of South Africa (CONTRALESA), for example, increasingly resorted to business enterprises after the constitutional recognition of chieftaincy was achieved in 1996. Comaroff & Comaroff (Reference Comaroff and Comaroff2009: 6–8) argue that CONTRALESA's vision for chieftaincy in post-apartheid South Africa is to convert financial into cultural capital and vice versa. Another example for the hybridization of neotraditionalism and neoliberalism in South Africa is the Royal Bafokeng Nation in North West Province (Cook Reference Cook2005; Comaroff & Comaroff Reference Comaroff and Comaroff2009: 98–116).

In the following, I first summarise the legislation on chieftaincy since 1994 in order to provide a general background to the status and role of chieftaincy in contemporary South Africa. Second, I describe the changing relationship between the state, the ANC and chieftaincy, specifically since Jacob Zuma became President of the ANC and of South Africa. Thereafter, I illustrate and analyse the changing relations between the ANC and chieftaincy on the local level in KwaZulu-Natal, and address the question of the legitimacy of chieftaincy.

My first argument is that the legitimacy of chieftaincy is not only based on constitutional and legal recognition, as proponents of the despotism perspective suggest, but that chieftaincy may rely on different forms of ‘basic legitimacy’ (see Popitz Reference Popitz1992: 221–7; Trotha Reference Trotha, Möhlig and Trotha1994, Reference Trotha, Willer, Förster and Ortner-Buchberger1995), as my case study of the KwaXimba Traditional Council demonstrates. In brief, basic legitimacy refers to a legitimation of rule that is situated between Weber's ideal types of legitimacy and a compliance that is based merely on habit, affect or interests (see section ‘Chieftaincy and basic legitimacy’ for a detailed discussion of the concept). The article therefore attempts to specify the particular forms of basic legitimacy currently at work in local politics in KwaZulu-Natal.

Second, I argue that the relationship of chieftaincy with the ANC and the state is ambiguous, with both chiefs and politicians being mutually dependent. Chiefs are less involved in formal political processes nowadays, but they use public events such as commemoration ceremonies to establish, strengthen and secure links to political leaders in an informal manner. I suggest that this is a two-way process, in the sense that the latter use political clientelism and the public display of their familiarity to the amakhosi to win votes for upcoming elections. However, this does not mean that the chiefs are mere puppets of the political parties, but refers rather to their intermediary role in contemporary South Africa, which requires a navigation between cooperation and conflict.

LEGISLATION ON CHIEFTAINCY IN POST-APARTHEID SOUTH AFRICA

Although Nelson Mandela expressed his sympathy for the institution of chieftaincy in his autobiography Long Walk to Freedom (Mandela Reference Mandela1994) and the long-standing ANC chairman and Nobel prize winner Albert Luthuli was an inkosi himself before being removed from office, relations between the ANC and chieftaincy were difficult in the apartheid era. With the Bantu Authorities Act of 1951, the National Party (NP) made chieftaincy a tool of apartheid rule in the so-called Bantustans and many chiefs lost local acceptance due to their role as agents of the apartheid administration. Most chiefs used the new opportunities to enforce their local power and interests, but a minority formed CONTRALESA in 1987, so resisting the homeland politics of the NP and forming an alliance with the ANC.

In KwaZulu-Natal, the majority of chiefs were aligned with Inkatha Yesizwe (renamed Inkatha Freedom Party [IFP] in the 1990s). Inkatha controlled the so-called self-governing territory of KwaZulu; its chairman and at the same time Prime Minister of KwaZulu, Mangosuthu Buthelezi, tying amakhosi and izinduna to Inkatha in a clientelist relationship. KwaZulu-Natal was severely affected by violent conflict from the early 1980s onwards. Supporters of the United Democratic Front (UDF) fought against Inkatha, which was assisted by the security forces of the apartheid regime. It has been estimated that about 20,000 people died during this violence. Amakhosi and izinduna played an active role, mobilising, as they did, warrior regiments (amabutho) in rural and peri-urban areas to crush anti-apartheid resistance (see Bonnin Reference Bonnin2004; Krämer Reference Krämer2007; Kelly Reference Kelly2012).

Although an ANC political guideline from 1988 stated that chieftaincy would have no place in a democratic South Africa (Beall Reference Beall2006: 461), chiefs did become part of the transition process after 1990, and the South African Constitution of 1996 recognises the institution of ‘traditional leadership’. The role of chieftaincy was, however, not specified in the Constitution and remains vague. The TLGF Act of 2003 is a crucial junction with regard to the relations of chieftaincy and the state in post-apartheid South Africa, and has significant consequences for the democratisation process. According to Williams (Reference Williams2009), it is part of an attempt by the South African government to withdraw power from competing actors and institutions (such as ubukhosi) in order to strengthen the legitimacy of the state.

The official goal of the TLGF Act was: (i) to determine the role and functions of chieftaincy and (ii) to transform chieftaincy in such a way that it can coexist with elected democratic structures. Two important aspects of this endeavour were to make chieftaincy representative and accountable. Furthermore, the TLGF Act stipulates that chieftaincy and local councils should cooperate in development activities (Williams Reference Williams2009: 200). The Act also deals with the question of how to distribute power on the local level. Elected institutions are allocated ‘the exclusive right to exercise power in a democracy and while chieftaincy is welcome to assist on some matters, chieftains are not autonomous political entities that can exercise power separate from elected institutions' (Williams Reference Williams2009: 205). This means that the relationship between hereditary and elected institutions is formally hierarchical. However, the very fact that the TLGF Act stipulates that elected councils and chieftaincy should cooperate in the implementation of development projects indicates that the state administration depends on the goodwill of chiefs.

According to Claassens (Reference Claassens2013), the TLGF Act is part of a legislation aimed at empowering chieftaincy:

Not only the TLGF Act but also the CLR Act engenders much controversy in both the academia and in public. The CLR Act was declared invalid by the Constitutional Court in 2010 because not one public hearing took place during the legislative process. The Court did not deal with the original argument of the plaintiff that the CLR Act would withhold land rights from rural South African residents. Hence, a legal lacuna exists which has not yet been filled by the national government (van der Westhuizen Reference van der Westhuizen2013). The CLR Act made Traditional Councils the decisive authority in land management, as they can replace land administration committees. Although the latter were originally designated to control land allocation, chieftaincy may continue to perform this function. Ntsebeza argues that Traditional Councils – and thus also land administration committees – are undemocratic, with 60% of members being selected (rather than elected) by the chief, and that an illegitimate institution is firmly in control of land management and use (Ntsebeza Reference Ntsebeza and Ruiters2011: 86–9). In 2014, Jacob Zuma explicitly encouraged neotraditional leaders ‘to take advantage of the newly amended Restitution of Land Rights Amendment Act’ and to put in land claims (Claassens Reference Claassens2014). Although the legislation may suggest that chieftaincy is on the rise in post-apartheid South Africa, the resistance against these political developments is strong in civil society, in the academia and partly also in politics. This becomes clear from the debate on the Traditional Courts Bill: the legislation was strongly disputed in public hearings and amongst the majority of provincial governments and the government eventually had to allow the Bill to lapse in Parliament in February 2014 (Buthelezi Reference Buthelezi2014).

JACOB ZUMA AND THE CHANGING RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE STATE, THE ANC AND CHIEFTAINCY

The election of Jacob Zuma as President of the ANC in December 2007 and as South African President in April 2009 provoked a public and academic debate about the future of democracy in South Africa. What triggered off a wave of enthusiasm among many younger, poorer ANC supporters in KwaZulu-Natal (White Reference White2012: 411) evoked considerable scepticism on the part of political commentators. For example, Gumede (Reference Gumede2008: 261) argued: ‘The election of Zuma as ANC president is likely to usher in an unsettling period in post-apartheid South Africa's history, which may pose a severe threat to the country's ongoing quest to consolidate its infant democracy.’

One effect of Zuma's election was that chieftaincy became a renewed centre of political interest. In one of his public speeches, Zuma (Reference Zuma2007) argued that democracy and chieftaincy were compatible. He referred to the former position of the ANC that characterised chieftaincy as a stumbling block for democratisation, contrasting it with a personal view. ‘[I]f applied judiciously’, Zuma (Reference Zuma2007: 102) claimed, chieftaincy would in fact promote democracy. In his speech, Zuma reaffirmed the new position of the ANC towards chieftaincy, pleading for legal recognition and the cooperation of elected and hereditary institutions in local government.

On the other hand, Zuma does not seem to hold political opposition, democratic control or minority rights in high esteem, as the following quotation suggests: ‘Zuma told Parliament on Thursday that the majority ruled in a democracy. “You have more rights because you're a majority; you have less rights because you're a minority. That's how democracy works,” he said.’ (SAPA 2012) This understanding of democracy also matches Zuma's idea of political leadership. The vice-chancellor of the University of the Witwatersrand, Adam Habib, once claimed that ‘Zuma's idea of leadership is that of a “chieftaincy” in which he provides from the government largesse and expects something in return’ (Zvomuya Reference Zvomuya2013).

Beinart (Reference Beinart2014) sees a ‘remarkable turnaround’ of the ANC leadership and South African government in its relationship with and attitude towards chieftaincy and he claims that ‘[t]he ANC has changed direction of late in ways which previous leaders and especially activists may have found disturbing’. Zuma's election campaign in 2007, for example, included public expressions of sympathy and support for Isilo (‘king’) Goodwill Zwelithini and amakhosi in KwaZulu-Natal. Just before the Mangaung Conference, Zuma visited Zwelithini in his residence, and expressed his thanks after the election as ANC President. During Zuma's rape trial in the Johannesburg High Court, amakhosi, dressed in leopard skins, took a seat in the first row to express their support for him (Robins Reference Robins2008: 417). He in turn thanked Inkosi Mbongeleni Zondi, a descendant of the leader of the Bhambatha Rebellion of 1906, for the support during the court proceedings (The Mercury 24.12.2007). In January 2007, Zuma was invited by Inkosi Zibuse Mlaba to KwaXimba, and thanked KwaXimba residents for their support during the corruption trial in the Pietermaritzburg High Court, during which many local ANC and SACP supporters stood on night duty in front of the court. The support for Zuma in KwaXimba and in eThekwini Municipality is strong, not only among politicians and party members but also on the part of the amakhosi, who were aligned with the IFP in the not-so-distant past.

The ANC has sounded the bell for a ‘struggle for chieftaincy’ and prospective votes in rural and peri-urban areas. In 2006, about 800 recognised traditional leaders ruled over approximately 18 million people in rural and peri-urban South Africa (Khan et al. Reference Khan, Lootvoet and Vawda2006: 89), while about 300 amakhosi are officially recognised in KwaZulu-Natal. Political parties hope to gain access to these potential votes through cooperation with chiefs. In the mid-1990s, the ANC was successful in gaining the support of Isilo Goodwill Zwelithini, luring him away from the IFP. Although the isilo is the highest-ranking leader in the hierarchy of ubukhosi, his power is largely symbolic and he represents a historic continuity with Shaka, the founder of the Zulu kingdom. He is thus the most important representative of an imaginary Zulu community. The symbolism of his power becomes visible, for instance, in enthronement ceremonies for the amakhosi in KwaZulu-Natal (see below).

In the meantime, many amakhosi followed the example set by Isilo Goodwill Zwelithini and currently support the ANC (The Mercury 21.1.2008; Sunday Tribune 27.1.2008). My personal observations and interviews in the eThekwini Municipality confirm this general viewpoint: whereas the ANC could count on the public support of only one inkosi in the mid-1990s, the majority of the 17 recognised amakhosi nowadays show sympathy for the ANC. Their hope is for new sources of power through cooperation with the ANC. The eThekwini Municipality founded a so-called ‘amakhosi office’ in 2003; its main objectives being to coordinate the interests of the Municipality Council, the local administration and the amakhosi. The office is financed by the Municipality and the manager describes his position as a ‘bridge between the amakhosi and the eThekwini Municipality Council’ (VM 2008 Int.). Representatives of the Municipality as well as amakhosi consider their relations as predominantly cooperative. The Municipality strives to win the trust of the amakhosi through various activities (joint meetings, workshops, excursions), and the latter often complain about their alleged loss of power in the last two decades, specifically in comparison to elected (ward) councillors. My observations of the monthly meetings of the Local House of Traditional Leaders (founded in 2006) show that civil servants of the Municipality regularly attend the meetings to integrate the amakhosi in health, education and development projects. On the other hand, the amakhosi are prominent (although less prominent in comparison with politicians) in municipal public events, often leaving the impression of being election campaigns for the ANC.

On first sight and at the Municipality level, the relations between Municipality Council and ANC on the one hand, and ubukhosi on the other, are hierarchical. But the very fact that the Municipality continuously courts the amakhosi's favour emphasises their mutual dependency. The amakhosi are regarded as indispensable for the success of development projects and many of them, despite their frequent complaints, are aware of the new opportunities arising from the limited capacity of local administration. Most amakhosi do not align themselves with the ANC in public. They rather try to play off the interests of the state against those of their communities in an intermediary and informal niche in order to consolidate their power and legitimacy. They have therefore lost interest in their official role as ‘ex officio’ members of the Municipality Council and hardly attend Council meetings. Instead, the amakhosi try to influence political processes by means of informal relations with civil servants and political office holders.

A CASE STUDY OF KWAXIMBA TRADITIONAL COUNCIL

The case study of KwaXimba Traditional Council in the eThekwini Municipality illustrates the effects of national legislation as well as the relationship of the ANC and chieftaincy on the local level in KwaZulu-Natal.Footnote ⁴

KwaXimba is one of several regional chiefdoms founded by Theophilus Shepstone, the Secretary for Native Affairs in Natal, in the mid-19th century (see also McClendon Reference McClendon2010; Guy Reference Guy2013). Hence, it was known as a ‘government tribe’ during and after the colonial era, and its chiefs were iziphakanyiswa, that is, ‘commoners elevated to the position of chief’ (Kelly Reference Kelly2012: 32). In the 1940s, the South African administration provoked a conflict in KwaXimba when it intervened in the local successor arrangement and promoted one of the Mlaba lineages to the office of inkosi, the lineage which is still in power. As a result, a violent conflict started in the 1940s and continued until the 1960s. The dynamics of violence became so severe in the 1950s that even the National Parliament had to become involved. Against the background of decades of loyalty to the state administration, the events of the late apartheid era are somewhat paradoxical: Zibuse Mlaba, by that time inkosi of KwaXimba, was one of the first chiefs in Natal who was opposed to the apartheid regime, withdrew from Inkatha and aligned himself openly with the UDF/ANC and CONTRALESA. Mlaba also became a close friend of the ‘peace chief’ Mhlabunzima Maphumulo of the Maphumulo chiefdom in the Table Mountain region, who was shot dead in February 1991 (see also Kelly Reference Kelly2012: 2–7). Both amakhosi underwent a political turnabout; many other chiefs only doing so in recent years.

KwaXimba was seriously affected by another period of violent conflict in the late 1980s, when ANC supporters from KwaXimba clashed with IFP followers from the neighbouring chiefdom of KwaNyavu. Beside anti-apartheid resistance and party politics, the already mentioned period of violence from the 1940s onwards and a desire to take revenge on both sides were contributory factors. In March 1988, the inkosi of KwaXimba (and the biological father of the current inkosi) came under attack in his home where he was shot dead execution-style, allegedly by IFP-aligned members of the neighbouring chiefdom. In the aftermath, the chief's family appointed one of his brothers, Zibuse Mlaba, to act as a regent (ibamba) because the inkosi was only eight years old at the time.

Zibuse Mlaba was born in KwaXimba but grew up in a nearby township and was active in anti-apartheid resistance movements. Although the late inkosi was already perceived as being aligned with the ANC, the regent gave ANC support in KwaXimba a new momentum and he was very successful in mobilising the youth for the Party cause. ANC supporters were able to fend off attacks from KwaNyavu and to gain upper hand in KwaXimba. Divisions within the ward manifested themselves mainly along lines of generation: whereby the youth generally supported the ANC, a section of the elderly men involved in the neotraditional structures of the chiefdom favoured the KwaZulu government and Inkatha. Several murders of elderly men accused of being collaborators occurred in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Further on, IFP supporters either had to flee from KwaXimba or were forced to join the triumphing ANC.

Since then, the local ANC branch has become one of the strongest in KwaZulu-Natal in terms of membership and election results. Part of the reason for ANC domination is the fact that the regent was at the same time a regional ANC leader. He became the deputy chairperson of the KwaZulu-Natal ANC in the mid-1990s (under the leadership of Jacob Zuma at the time), a member of Provincial Parliament and the inkosi of KwaXimba. The regent is an example for political actors which Friedrich (Reference Friedrich and Swartz1968) calls ‘political-middlemen’: During the anti-apartheid struggle, Zibuse Mlaba translated the ideas of liberation and democratisation to the neotraditional setting, and shaped the course of the local political arena in a substantial way. He made it clear to the ANC supporting youth in KwaXimba that neotraditional structures have a place in a democratic setting, and as a neotraditional-cum-political leader Zibuse Mlaba symbolised the merging of both elected and hereditary institutions. Besides being very successful in mobilising for the ANC in the late apartheid era, he secured substantial infrastructure development (tar roads, electricity, water, housing) for KwaXimba in the post-apartheid democracy via his political and administrative networks in eThekwini and KwaZulu-Natal.

The current relationship of inkosi, izinduna and the Traditional Council on the one hand, and the local ANC on the other, is characterised by both competition and cooperation. The ANC usually wins local elections with more than 90% of the votes. Despite the local dominance of the ANC, political leaders consistently mistrust the intentions of the inkosi and the izinduna, mainly because chieftaincy as such was instrumentalised by the IFP in the past. Most local politicians believe that ubukhosi should have a subordinate position in local government and politics, but nevertheless be recognised in a democratic South Africa.

The KwaXimba Traditional Council was formed in accordance with the TLGF Act and consists of 30 members, 60% of whom are appointed by the inkosi and 40% elected by the community. KwaXimba is divided into 11 izigodi (sg. isigodi; ‘district’) headed by an induna. All izinduna are appointed members of the Traditional Council. The KwaZulu-Natal Traditional Leadership and Governance Act, No. 5 of 2005 states that a Traditional Council ‘must comprise of at least one-third women’ (section 6.2.c) and my observations confirm the regular participation of women in Traditional Council meetings. The meetings take place once a month and the traditional secretary keeps minutes of the meetings and forwards them to the Provincial Department of Local Government and Traditional Affairs (as designated in section 14). What is striking about Traditional Council meetings is the emphasis which is put on discipline and order. This concerns the dress code but also disciplined behaviour in debates on various locally relevant issues. Furthermore, the discussions are conducted in a comparably free and fair manner and Traditional Council members can and do raise their voices, regardless of whether they are young or old, male or female. The inkosi is held in high esteem, but on the other hand he is expected to adhere to Traditional Council rules and he is prevented from taking decisions on his own account. At least with regard to procedural aspects, the Traditional Council meetings are conducted in a comparably democratic manner and in accordance with provincial and national legislation.

In the following, I first describe and then analyse various public events in KwaXimba, which illustrate the partly cooperative, partly conflictual relations of chieftaincy and the ANC in the local political arena.

CHIEFTAINCY AND BASIC LEGITIMACY

How may we make sense of these depicted public events and what may they tell us about the legitimacy of chieftaincy in contemporary KwaZulu-Natal? In a case study of Northern Ghana, Lentz (Reference Lentz1998) calls for understanding legitimation as a conflictual and open process, showing that political actors combine different registers of power and legitimacy to justify their ‘bigness’. Similarly, I argue that, while the constitutional and legal recognition by the South African state is important, the acceptance of chieftaincy is essentially based on the accumulation of basic legitimacies. My second argument is that the relationship of chieftaincy with the ANC and the state is ambiguous, with both chiefs and politicians being mutually dependent. The sources of support chiefs may rely on are not inevitably independent of the state or the ANC, but they comprise local forms of acceptance as well as resources provided by the ruling party and the administration. In the present case study, the amakhosi of KwaXimba have adopted an intermediary role between the local and the state in the course of the comparably short history of the chiefdom and they have been able to secure different basic legitimacies since the democratic transition.

What does ‘basic legitimacy’ mean, exactly? As briefly mentioned above, it refers to a legitimation of rule that is situated between Weber's ideal types of legitimacy (tradition, legality, charisma) on the one hand, and a compliance that is based merely on habit, affect, or interests on the other – and of which Weber argues that it would be insufficient to legitimate rule in the long run (Trotha Reference Trotha, Möhlig and Trotha1994: 74). Basic legitimacies contribute to the establishment of political order, but they are not yet legitimate in the Weberian sense, that is, as the belief in the justification of a specific order. Basic legitimacies become evident as everyday practices and ‘could rather be conceived as forms of initial stabilizing toleration’ (Schlichte Reference Schlichte2009: 95). I distinguish between four forms of basic legitimacy, namely the value of order, organisational capacity, violent resistance, and cultural affiliation.

The relative peacefulness and stability of KwaXimba since the early 1990s points to the basic legitimacy of the value of order. Even if this order is precarious, it is ‘appreciated by everyone concerned as it allows the activities of everyday life to resume. This might, paradoxically, go hand in hand with arbitrary behavio[u]r by the rulers’ (Schlichte Reference Schlichte2009: 95). The regent of KwaXimba was able to end the period of severe violent conflict in the early 1990s by establishing an alliance of neotraditional and political leaders, thus making KwaXimba an ANC stronghold until now. The other side of the coin is, however, that opposition parties are excluded from the local political arena – even if not formally, at least in everyday political practice. The general political situation on the local level therefore contradicts at least some of the basic requirements of a liberal democracy. The voting preference of KwaXimba residents for the ANC is, however, not primarily the result of coercion. As Baldwin (Reference Baldwin2013) shows for the relationship between chiefs and politicians in rural Zambia, voting preference is less about norms of reciprocity or coercion and more about perceptions of the relationship between chiefs and politicians and the potential effects on local development. If voters perceive the cooperation of a chief and politicians as contributing to local development, they are likely to vote for that particular chief. Voters ‘may be making sophisticated political inferences’ (Baldwin Reference Baldwin2013: 807) and are not simply forced by chiefs to vote according to their party political preferences.

Chieftaincy in KwaXimba was also able to gain the basic legitimacy of organisational capacity. This refers to the capacity of the rulers to organise and coordinate members and groups of a society in order to serve an economic or political purpose considered to be of societal relevance (Trotha Reference Trotha, Möhlig and Trotha1994: 77). The improvements in infrastructure development in KwaXimba have been substantial during the last 20 years. Compared with other chiefdoms, particularly those outside the eThekwini Municipality ‘the extent to which people had access to clean water, electricity, telephones, paved roads, and newly constructed schools and creches’ is most notable (Williams Reference Williams2010: 38). An often repeated narrative by KwaXimba residents, the success in infrastructure development is usually interpreted as a consequence of the cooperation of the former and current inkosi with the ANC and the eThekwini Municipality. However, the relations between the neotraditional and the local ANC leadership are conflictual in other instances, as both the example of the housing project and the general attitude of local ANC leaders towards the inkosi and the izinduna suggest.

In KwaXimba, the struggle against the apartheid regime was moreover credited with ubukhosi in conjunction with the ANC and refers to what I call the basic legitimacy of violent resistance. It is based on resistance, if necessary by violent means, against a political order that is perceived as arbitrary and unjust. The basic legitimacy of violent resistance provides the organisers with compliance by their subordinates even beyond the original phase of resistance. Or, put differently, violent and successful resistance from the past forms the ‘political capital’ of the post-apartheid era. Hence, the current local acceptance of amakhosi and izinduna is often linked to their role in violent conflict and to their political affiliation during the apartheid years. The significance of the basic legitimacy of violent resistance becomes clear, for example, in the 2009 and 2014 ceremonies, in which the murder of the late inkosi and his sacrifice for a new and democratic South Africa was commemorated. His son, the current inkosi, obviously tries to justify his position and to strengthen his power in the relationship with local ANC politicians by publicly reverting to the important role his father played in the anti-apartheid struggle. The status quo in KwaXimba is similar to what Fokwang (Reference Fokwang2009: 48–9) reports on the Tshivhase chieftaincy in Limpopo province: the local acceptance of chief Kennedy Tshivhase is based on the prestige coming from his grandfather, who was an icon of the liberation struggle and murdered by the South African government. Correspondingly, the chief's legitimacy as a neotraditional leader is reinforced by his political affiliation to the ANC and as a prominent politician.

Finally, the commemoration ceremonies in KwaXimba emphasise the significance of the basic legitimacy of cultural affiliation, which refers to the shared experience of rulers and their followers as being part of a common culture. This shared experience becomes evident in that the depicted public events attracted numerous local spectators as well as active participants. It emphasises the relevance and importance of ubukhosi as an institution, and it certainly does not fit well with the despotism perspective that chieftaincy is entirely delegitimised. Moreover, the succession conflict in 2007 also throws light on another significant aspect of the basic legitimacy of cultural affiliation: even though the regent has been very successful as a chief and politician since the 1990s, most KwaXimba residents believed that Simangaye Mlaba was ‘the rightful heir’. The general question of what ‘rightful’ means in the context of invention and intervention on the part of state administration was less debated than the point in time when the young inkosi was to take up office. This episode illustrates that the ANC had to adapt to local perceptions of an appropriate successor arrangement and could not simply push through their high-ranking member, that is, the regent. On the other hand, it would have been impossible for the young inkosi to come to office without him declaring his support for the dominant local party. The succession conflict thus also highlights the mutual dependence between political and neotraditional leaders.