Honor and Defamation

The study of honor is central to understanding the consequences of the colonial period on African lives. As John Iliffe (Reference Iliffe2005) argues, the imposition of colonial rule upset longstanding and deep-seated ideas about honor in African societies. This was because colonial authorities established new hierarchies that damaged or destroyed existing authority structures and created opportunities for novel expressions of authority with the establishment of colonial administration. For example, colonial conquest rendered the expression of warrior pride limited if not impossible, while colonial administration opened opportunities for those educated in colonial habits of record-keeping and discipline to acquire new types of status as clerks, messengers, and police.

While earlier ideas about honor may have “fragmented,” they did not disappear altogether. Instead, they were adapted to the new realities (Iliffe Reference Iliffe2005:6–7). According to Iliffe, regimental honor “transmuted” into the dignity that came with professional army life, while many men channeled their honor into displays of masculinity (Iliffe Reference Iliffe2005:227). Iliffe’s study of nineteenth-century court cases involving Xhosa-speaking litigants demonstrates that “accusations of theft, witchcraft, and female promiscuity” constituted “an indigenous notion of respectability,” which he argues was “probably the norm in sub-Saharan Africa” (Iliffe Reference Iliffe2005:160). In the colonial setting, these ideas were channeled into debates about sex outside of a (church, state, or male elder and lineage) sanctioned marriage, known popularly and in colonial law as prostitution and adultery (see Jeater Reference Jeater1993).

By the colonial period, the outward expression of dignity, piety, and sobriety in dress, demeanor, housing and so on—in short, respectability—became a substitute for respect and a strategy for inclusion in colonial society (Ross Reference Ross1999; Barnes Reference Barnes1999; Goodhew 2000; West 2002; Iliffe Reference Iliffe2005:ch. 14; McMahon 2006). The problem with respectability was its fragility; people had to constantly present themselves as respectable people worthy of their status (Iliffe Reference Iliffe2005:256; Ross Reference Ross1999). In this regard, defamation cases neatly illustrate the dilemmas associated with defending the boundaries of respectability in a colonial setting, because by its very definition, defamation codified the (legal) limits to social insults (Iliffe Reference Iliffe2005:4, ch. 14). Importantly, the purpose of defamation cases was not to determine whether a person had committed a disreputable act or not. Instead, the point of defamation trials was to adjudicate what types of name-calling in what situation constituted harm to a person’s character (cf. Burbank Reference Burbank1999). Indeed, as detailed below, people invested enormous energy and time into trying to tell compelling stories that would safeguard their honor and explain their behavior as well within the community’s expectations for civil conduct (Moogk Reference Moogk1979:526; Cust Reference Cust1995:62). The colonial setting complicated such storytelling, because the audiences for defamation cases included colonial officials as well as kin, patriarchs, neighbors, and even strangers, whose expectations did not always match.

Nonetheless, colonial courts offered litigants opportunities to try their cases when local reconciliation failed. In the cases I collected, for example, there are only eight cases in total recorded as “defamation” or “slander” in the period before 1938. It is interesting to note that, of these, two of the cases came from parties who were unable to reach an agreement about proper compensation (NAZ, S1035, 34/19; NAZ, S1939, 45/36). It is even more striking that, out of eight identified cases, four were initiated by women for accusations of witchcraft, theft, and adultery, and in an extraordinary case, causing a daughter to have an abortion (NAZ, S635 14/1928; NAZ, S601, 16/1928; NAZ, S1939, 45/36; NAZ, S1939, 63/36 and appeal of the case NAZ, S1542/C3/5). These cases, though few, map neatly onto Iliffe’s notion that colonial defamation cases in the eastern Cape had to do with “household honor,” that is theft, witchcraft, and sexual immorality, rather than the historical demonstrations of male honor, such as “physical courage and male virility” (Iliffe Reference Iliffe2005:156–57). Household honor remained central to people’s concerns going into the 1930s and 1940s, a period that solidified the colonial definition of defamation. In addition, from the 1930s on, a new defense of honor, rooted in occupation and upheld by NCs’ courts, is evident in the court records for defamation.

A 1930 case, which never made it to the courts system, is nonetheless relevant because it contains the legal outlines for recognizing a new category of honor associated with working alongside NCs. In a letter to his employer, the NC, an aggrieved “Head Messenger,” who mediated the traffic of the NC’s office and with that, shaped the NC’s perception of local politics, wanted to sue for defamation because a man who had business with the Assistant Native Commissioner (ANC) had complained that the messenger had prevented him from seeing the proper officials. The NC interpreted the Head Messenger’s complaint as a critique of the messenger’s competency. “The Head Messenger,” wrote the NC, “is naturally grieved that such a defamatory allegation should be made against him, which seriously jeopardizes his official position.” (NAZ, S138/41, 1926–1931, NC, Marandellas to Chief Native Commissioner (CNC), 31 March 1930). The CNC agreed that there was “no question” that the messenger had been defamed, but assured the messenger that his reputation had not suffered among those who mattered most—his white employers (NAZ, S138/41, 1936-1941, CNC to NC, Marandellas, 14 April 1930).

The decade or so after attaining self-rule in 1923 marked a critical period in the consolidation of settler rule in Southern Rhodesia, and establishes a context for understanding the concern of government officials to protect their African employees from the insults of critical Africans. After some intense inter-departmental squabbling about their legal competency, the Native Affairs Department officials won recognition for their courts in the country’s legal hierarchy (Jeater 2007:ch. 11; Shutt Reference Shutt2007:658–61). Charging Africans with insolence, contemptuous behavior, and criminal defamation became a handy way to quell African criticism of authorities (Shutt Reference Shutt2007; Bulawayo Chronicle, August 1, 1930, p. 8). The government also passed legislation that segregated land (1930), agricultural markets (1931 and 1934), and labor (1934) (Palmer Reference Palmer1977; Ndlovu-Gatsheni 2009; Mlambo Reference Mlambo2014). Public space for African dissent closed. But officials still needed Africans, even if they dismissed their knowledge. As Diana Jeater notes, by the 1930s, Southern Rhodesian officials believed that they understood as much about Africans as was required to rule effectively. From that point on, NCs and other officials relied on the comforting knowledge of their “echo chamber” to adjudicate disputes, write local histories, standardize orthography, and make law (Jeater 2007:235). By limiting the input of Africans’ knowledge of their own lives, history, and sense of justice NCs created frustration and confusion, but ultimately Africans, especially one like the messenger mentioned above, became well-versed in colonial expectations and adjusted accordingly.

All the cases examined below took place in the Native Commissioner’s court or in the so-called Native Appeals Court. The Southern Rhodesian courts system allowed an individual NC to base judgments on his subjective evaluation of the truthfulness of witnesses. For example, in explaining his decision, an NC stated that he was “impressed with the straightforward manner” of the plaintiff’s witnesses and unimpressed with the defendant’s “attitude,” which he found “unconvincing” (NAZ, S2841/6, 105/1955). The NC or ANC also rendered a verdict and determined any financial fines or costs due, though again, such reasoning was open to personal interpretation. Finally, it is worth underlining that any interpretation of defamation cases, like other court cases, must acknowledge the role of the Native Commissioner (or sometimes, the Assistant Native Commissioner) in shaping the written record of the case. Most importantly, NCs kept terse notes, and usually only elaborated on the rationale for their decision when a litigant appealed the case to a higher court. The main purpose of notes was to fit the testimony and evidence of the case into existing case law.

Defining Defamation in Southern Rhodesia

The precedent-setting case for civil defamation was Ephraim v. Marufu in 1938. What made this case unique was the fact that the official who heard it gave his verdict specifically for defamation, rather than seduction or theft, both of which were possible verdicts in this case. In fact, the case notes suggest a rather narrow focus on defamation despite the serious accusations of “seduction” brought up by the defendant Marafu. In this case, the significance of professional status prevailed over other possible kinds of recognized status, such as male guardians of women, while the defamation of a government worker assumed a greater significance for officials than sexual impropriety, an offense NCs considered upsetting to local order and governance (Jeater Reference Jeater1993).

As he made clear in his complaint, Ephraim enjoyed a high professional status as a “medical orderly” at a clinic in Wedza. As such, he counted himself among the top echelon of Africans in the colonial realm (see Summers Reference Summers2002). He explained he was suing Marufu for defamation because, according to the NC’s case notes, Marufu “made a false statement that I had stolen blankets belonging to the Government” (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu, testimony of Ephraim). “I am employed,” he said, “as orderly in charge of local Native clinic and all property there is under my immediate control.” Ephraim cast the accusation as an attack on his professionalism, an identity that was at the core of his status (see Alexander Reference Alexander2017:168–69).

Among Ephraim’s duties at the clinic was to give injections for venereal disease to Africans, one of whom was Jelita, the daughter of Marufu, the defendant. Jelita had received “nine injections” for venereal disease at the clinic, most of them from Ephraim, who she also claimed had sex with her. Shortly after Jelita left the clinic, Ephraim discovered that some blankets were missing. He told the supervising doctor, who in turn told him to report the presumed theft to the police, which he did. At about the same time, Jelita’s father, Marufu, went to the police and reported that Ephraim had stolen the blankets when he left for a break at his rural home. In the end, officials at the clinic found the blankets—no one had stolen them. These were the facts of the case.

Dr. Leggate, the hospital director, and the Native Affairs Department official, the Assistant Native Commissioner Kerr, both considered Ephraim a vital figure at the hospital because he gave injections for venereal disease. Ephraim’s case forced the court to choose between two competing colonial statuses of financial propriety and sexual impropriety (See Caulfied 2005: Introduction; Iliffe Reference Iliffe2005:ch. 9 & 14, p. 257). Indeed, it is striking that accusations of improper sexual relationships that were at the core of this case were pushed to the background for a focus on stolen goods and the reputation of colonial officials. In her testimony, Jelita stated, “I ran away because the plaintiff began to make love to me. I told my father about it” (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu, testimony of Jelita). As far as the court was concerned, this case was not about seduction nor was it about Jelita’s morality as a woman. Instead, the NC focused on the behavior of the men, Ephraim and Marufu. “I made this report to the Police when they arrested me and my daughter,” Marufu said. “I told the Police then, ‘My daughter has stolen no blankets—I think the complainant has taken them to his kraal and left them there because I was there when the complainant left Clinic [sic] to go on leave’” (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu, testimony of Marufu). He added, “I was sore about complaintants [sic] action regarding my daughter,” not least because police searched his home for the missing items (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu, testimony of Marufu). In fact, Marufu thought that Ephraim had “told deliberate lies connecting my daughter with the alleged disappearance of the blanket, plate and cup” (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu, testimony of Marufu). In a leap of thought, Kerr decided Marufu “had no justification whatsoever for resenting plaintiff’s subsequent action and came to the conclusion that defendant had acted maliciously and with intent to injure the plaintiff” (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu, ANC, Kerr, Wedza, 10 September 1936). Marufu’s malice was his admission that he was angry with Ephraim for accusing his daughter of theft. For Kerr, the fact that Marufu understood “Police work” made his actions that more objectionable. Kerr went on to state that Marufu did not have a good sense of judicial protocols (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu, ANC, Kerr, Wedza, 10 September 1936). In sum, for Kerr, Marufu did not live up to his acquired status, and that made all the difference in this case.

The colonial status of the litigants was at the forefront of the case, but that did not mean they shed other types of distinctions. From the point of view of Ephraim, the key relationship in the case was the one he had with his father and the reason he sued Marufu for defamation. Ephraim complained that, because of Marufu’s accusation against him, “my kraal in Chipinga was later searched by the Police and nothing was found. My father did not understand this and so sent a person to ask the Assistant Native Commissioner Wedza what was happening to me that a search should be made of my kraal” (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu, testimony of Ephraim). Ephraim’s rationale for suing Marufu was in keeping with Africans’ interest in adjudicating cases in which the harm done to an individual affected the entire balance of power between kinship groups (Jeater Reference Jeater1993). However, the court focused on the claim that Marufu’s actions had defamed Ephraim’s more narrowly defined name. Kerr elided Ephraim’s careful delineation of the harm done to his father and concluded that Marufu’s accusation had harmed Ephraim’s professional reputation and with that, his ability to do a job that was so vital to public health in Wedza.

Kerr explained that he knew immediately that Ephraim’s case was “outside the sphere of litigation generally covered by native law or custom” (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu, ANC, Kerr, Wedza, 10 September 1936). Kerr does not explain what tipped him off that this was an unusual case. Whatever the reason, Kerr stated that he believed that the case “should be decided according to our common law on the subject without adhering strictly to the rules of procedure regarding defendants [sic] plea, which is an essential feature in a case of this nature when in our own Civil Courts” (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu, ANC, Kerr, Wedza, 10 September 1936).

Kerr’s rationale was innovative. It appears that James Leggate, the medical officer at the clinic, provided what for Kerr was the key evidence to decide the case. “The success of plaintiff’s work as a medical orderly in this area depends entirely on his reputation amongst local natives,” Leggate told the NC, “far more so than his actual technical skill as a medical orderly” (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu, testimony of James Leggate). Significantly, Leggate delivered his crucial interpretation about the importance of Ephraim’s reputation among other Africans to his professional duties when Marufu and Ephraim were absent from the courtroom.

In deciding the Ephraim case, Kerr relied on the established rules for finding defamation among whites. In a letter to the Appeals Board explaining his legal reasoning, Kerr wrote that the case satisfied two requirements for finding defamation—a “statement had been published” and “the publication was malicious.” Echoing Dr. Leggate’s testimony, he further reasoned that Ephraim’s professional reputation had been harmed because his work “depends on results obtained in his work which in turn depends to a great extent on what the local population think of him” (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, ANC, Kerr, September 10, 1938).

Marufu appealed the NC’s verdict to a three-member Appeals Board that included two NCs and the CNC, Charles Bulloch, who was the chair of the court, and who delivered its ruling. The court generally agreed with Kerr’s reasoning, but added their own rationale for finding defamation in “Native Law.” The main point the court debated was whether Africans had any recourse to slander and defamation in so-called customary times. The court was split about the history of slander and defamation in African communities (See Iliffe 2005:156). Neither the Cape nor the Natal codes, which Southern Rhodesian NCs regarded as close to definitive law, provided clear and unequivocal statements about defamation in African communities. To clarify the legal situation, the Appeals court turned to Bulloch’s own book, The Mashona, a type of Bible on Shona customs for NCs (Jeater 2007:218–19). Citing chapter and verse, the appeals court discovered slander in “Native law” on page 310 of Bulloch’s book. Defamation, Bulloch wrote, were those words that “alter the attitude of the members of his social group towards the man maligned, and so endanger his valued tribal status and the harmony of his social life” (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Marufu v. Ephraim, Appeals Court, 6 December 1938). Bulloch did not define more precisely what he meant by “valued tribal status”; however, it seems from this case that it included professional reputation.

In fact, in this case and the ones that followed, NCs were much more comfortable ruling about the harm done to colonial and occupational statuses than so-called “tribal” status, which they frequently seemed to discount, misunderstand, or ignore altogether. As a result, there was an unresolved tension between the court’s reliance on Bullock’s definition of defamation as communal or “tribal” and the legal reasoning that emphasized autonomous individuals and their professional status in the colonial world (Iliffe Reference Iliffe2005:ch. 14). Even though Ephraim based his case on his professional honor, he included his father in all his calculations about the harm done to him.

For his part, Kerr found a way to include Ephraim and his father in his ruling. During the proceedings, Ephraim had made it clear that the dishonor to his father was part and parcel of his own feelings of shame, and yet Kerr omitted any mention of this in his reasons to rule for Ephraim. However, in calculating the ultimate monetary costs of the defamation to Ephraim Kerr considered Ephraim’s own meticulous bookkeeping of his expenses. Ephraim stated he had spent GBP2 and 10 shillings for his numerous trips to his father’s homestead “to find out what had happened” (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu, testimony of Ephraim). Ephraim did not explain how he calculated the monetary worth of his name, and no one questioned his expenses except to ask him how much train fare cost (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu, Ephraim recalled). The Appeals court upheld Kerr’s assessment of GBP4.17.6d, which included money Ephraim’s father spent, but neither Kerr nor the Appeals court explained why they considered this sum as correct (NAZ, S2029, 1936–1940, Ephraim v. Marufu). Whatever the rationale, Ephraim’s bookkeeping stamp on the verdict and cash award were clear.

Status and Defamation

The Ephraim case settled the question of whether Africans could sue for defamation. Still, the case did not answer important questions about the definition of defamation. Could people of higher status defame lower status people; could people of all classes be defamed; could whites defame Africans? Such questions cut to the heart of settler rule in Southern Rhodesia, where convincing and clear lines of difference between Africans, whites, Indians, and Coloureds were oftentimes difficult to maintain. Officials, of course, did not look to challenge the lines of difference among people in the colony, and as others have noted, the legal system in Southern Rhodesia protected whites while disciplining Africans who challenged authority (see McCulloch Reference McCulloch2000). However, as George Karekwaivanane (Reference Karekwaivanane2011; Reference Karekwaivanane2017) has convincingly argued for a later period, the ruling idea of the country was that the government was rule-bound and therefore just to one and all. People with means and motivation could (and did) upset legal custom by taking advantage of such legal ideology.

The first challenge to the notion that whites could not defame Africans came from an African farmer who owned property at Rugby Farm in the Victoria district. In 1941, he initiated a series of defamation cases—six in all—against his neighbors as well as against the NC of the area. The farm owner was one of a handful of Africans to own a farm prior to the 1930 Land Apportionment Act, which segregated land in the country along racial lines and transferred property from Africans to whites (Mujere Reference Mujere2014:300–301). Notably, he employed accountants and lawyers to protect his interests and had the active support of a white woman who encouraged him to sue the NC in court. The NC was notorious. Among other transgressions, he had been accused of impregnating a Coloured woman in the area (NAZ, S1793/4573-4646, case No. 4623). Importantly, because the case involved an NC, the case was heard in a Magistrate’s court, which usually heard complaints between whites, rather than in another NC’s court.

In his case against the NC, the farm owner claimed that the NC had defamed him with these words in a letter: “I may mention that native people look upon your [farm owner] as a lying grasping person” (NAZ, S1044/4, Fort Victoria Magistrate, 26 May 1941). The case clearly worried the NC, who wrote to the Chief Native Commissioner that the case might have “serious repercussions of Native Administration throughout the colony” if it continued (NAZ, S1044/4, NC, Fort Victoria to CNC, Salisbury May 27, 1941). Despite his plea, the case did proceed. In his defense, the NC claimed that his words “were prima facie defamatory if used of a European,” but not if told about an African (NAZ, S1044/4, Fort Victoria Magistrate, 26 May 1941). The “Native Messenger” in the area disagreed, saying, “it is a serious thing to say a person is a lying grasping person and it should not be said lightly of any one” (NAZ, S1044/4, Ft. Victoria Magistrate, 26 May 1941). The Magistrate agreed with the messenger on this point and recognized, legally, that defamatory words hurt African people as much as white people. The landowner won his case but was awarded the shameful sum of 1 shilling because he had “behaved unscrupulously” (NAZ, S1044/4, Ft. Victoria Magistrate, 26 May 1941).

The decision in this case did not alter case law for relations between officials and Africans, but it did deepen the idea that Africans—even ones who “behaved unscrupulously”—had an honor they could defend. A more pressing question from cases presented to the courts was how to cope with multiple societal ranks, such as occupation, position in the household, and gender, when deciding defamation cases. A legal answer came by way of a complicated case in 1946, which involved gender, generation, colonial status, and accusations of defamation, seduction, and patriarchal privilege. At its heart, Gondwe v. Soffa and Hilda was a consideration of which hierarchy mattered to litigants claiming defamation. In answering this question, the case deepened the official definition of defamation as a uniquely middle-class debility and legal category that was distinct from other charges, such as, in this case, seduction (NAZ, S2029, 1941–1946, 19/1945; Cases Reviewed, vol II, part II, 87–89). In doing so, the court elevated colonial status above other types of status, such as, in this case, patriarchal and guardianship. This case, along with the foundational 1938 Ephraim v. Marufu case, served as a precedent for finding defamation among Africans. In principle, after 1946, a legal case of defamation was open to everyone with an honor to defend.

Briefly stated, the case revolved around the fact that Soffa charged Gondwe, a medical orderly at Wedza clinic (like Ephraim), with seduction for having sex with Hilda, Soffa’s ward. Gondwe denied Soffa’s charge and then sued both him and Hilda for defaming his name. The case came amid debates within the African community about the mobility and righteousness of single women. According to Teresa Barnes, by the 1940s, urban married women’s “paradigms of righteousness” drew a sharp rhetorical line between respectable women and “temporary wives” and prostitutes (Barnes Reference Barnes1999: ch. 4; Scarnecchia Reference Scarnecchia, Raftopoulos and Yoshikuni1999). At the same time, “new definitions of good firmly included lobola but less often accommodated polygamy” (Barnes Reference Barnes1999:118). Hilda’s story fit into this broad debate over female righteousness. She testified that Gondwe promised to “lobola” her; he had given her soap and some money in anticipation of their union. Soffa only sued Gondwe for seduction damages after he refused to acknowledge his duties to Hilda. Although her role was central to the meaning of the case, her story was pushed aside in favor of the men’s. As in the Ephraim case, this case was about men and their authority.

The Assistant Native Commissioner who heard the case believed that Soffa, a “Native Constable,” had defamed Gondwe, a “highly qualified medical orderly,” to divert attention away from his own sexual misconduct at the clinic, which amounted to malice on Soffa’s part (NAZ, S2029, 1941–1946, 19/1945). He also made it clear that suing superiors displayed poor judgment. “I consider that Soffa must be shown,” he wrote in his judgment, “that attacks on the character of responsible officials, which are not supported by evidence, cannot be made with impunity…” (NAZ, 2029, 1941–1946, 19/1945, Reasons for Judgment). Gondwe won his case.

It must have been puzzling and frustrating for Soffa to hear the decision in his case. To Soffa, the ANC’s decision in favor of Gondwe displayed a shocking lack of understanding of the meaning of seduction, which was the original allegation that led to Gondwe’s charge of defamation. “What is my offense,” Soffa asked the court. He was Hilda’s guardian and did what guardians do—inquire about the possibility of seduction. Soffa dismissed the ANC’s question about who witnessed Hilda’s seduction by asking who ever witnesses such a violation; according to the “fathers” of the community past and present, the woman is the only witness, he added (NAZ, S2029, 1941–1946, Soffa Mhlanga to CNC, Salisbury, 12 November 1945).

Soffa appealed the decision based on his understanding of colonial law and his insistence that the ruling had overlooked his role as guardian of a young woman. In his detailed letter of appeal, Soffa meticulously outlined what the case was about, instructed the court in how to judge the character and therefore the testimony of witnesses, and explained how the case fit his understanding of social mores and official “custom” (NAZ, S2029, 1941–1946, Soffa Mhlanga to CNC, Salisbury, 12 November 1945). At the beginning of his letter, Soffa outlined how he had followed the correct procedure “according to custom” by first seeking the assistance of the professional officer senior to him and then up the scale. In addition, Soffa’s line-by-line challenge to Gondwe’s witnesses suggests that he was a superior student of the colonial court system. NCs and others routinely noted the demeanor of witnesses to explain why they thought the witness was lying or unreliable. Soffa picked up on this theme and pointed out that two witnesses contradicted each other’s testimony and further, that one of the women was “friendly” with orderlies at the clinic. As a result, she could not be a trustworthy witness. Soffa then turned to the question of malice and asked how he could harbor any malice toward Gondwe when by bringing his case to responsible authorities he had opened himself to examination by others. Moreover, the very fact that Gondwe said he forgave him meant there was no malicious intent. In short, Soffa sounded like the colonial officer he was.

Soffa also questioned the ANC’s knowledge of status in the area. In his appeal letter Soffa explained that he was a longstanding person of note in the community: “I have been in this district for quite a long time but I have never told lies of anybody, and why should I tell lies of GONDWE who is only a new man in the district?” (NAZ, S2029, 1941–1946, Soffa Mhlanga to CNC, Salisbury, 12 November 1945). And, finally, Soffa asks the question he had been developing throughout his letter: what status mattered in this case, occupational or patriarchal? “Does it mean to say that if a person of high position is alleged to have committed an offense,” Soffa asked pointedly, “this offense should not be made subject to an official inquiry?” (NAZ, S2029, 1941–1946, Soffa Mhlanga to CNC, Salisbury, 12 November 1945).

The Appeals Court sided with Soffa and reversed the ANC’s decision for Gondwe. It appears that Soffa’s reasoning influenced the appeals court and guided their decision, especially regarding colonial and African custom. The NC Beck noted in the appeal case that he did not know of any cases in which an accusation of seduction was also defamatory, because Africans did not equate the two (NAZ, S2029, 1941–1946, 19/1945, NC Beck’s comments in the appeal). However, he was quick to remind the court of the 1938 Ephraim case: “It appears essential that an individual today, who has reached a social or official status never contemplated in the past, must be afforded some protection against defamation” (NAZ, S2029, 1941–1946, 19 of 1945, Gondwe v. Soffa and Hilda, 6 November 1945, NC Beck’s comments in the appeal). Consequently, Gondwe had grounds to sue for defamation of character because the accusation of “seducing a patient must react unfavorably towards him” (NAZ, S2029, 1941–1946, 19 of 1945, Gondwe v. Soffa and Hilda, 6 November 1945, NC Beck’s comments in the appeal). At the same time, the Appeals Court agreed with Soffa that high-status employees were not immune from lawsuits simply because of their status. That said, the Appeals Court recognized that, as he stated in his letter, Soffa had scrupulously followed the “custom” of both his patriarchal obligations and colonial hierarchy in reporting the supposed seduction of his ward (NAZ, S2029, 1941–1946, 19 of 1945, Gondwe v. Soffa and Hilda, 6 November 1945, NC Beck’s comments in the appeal). The court also agreed with Soffa’s argument that his actions in determining whether Hilda had been seduced were also “in conformity with custom” (NAZ, S2029, 1941–1946, 19 of 1945, Gondwe v. Soffa and Hilda, 6 November 1945, NC Beck’s comments in the appeal). To officials, the precedent of the case was that hierarchy trumped everything. If, like Soffa, people followed the correct hierarchy in reporting a case, there could be no defamation because there was no malice. Instead, people were simply following the order of decision-making.

The Gondwe case solidified the understanding that Africans had honor that could be defamed, and opened the possibility that all people, no matter their status, could be sued, even if the courts frowned upon and sometimes invalidated cases against higher-ranked officials (see NAZ, S3145/20, Harold Carleton Gane to Clerk of the Court, 26 April 1956). Even so, there were limits to such subversion of the colonial order. In a 1946 case, white authorities at a Mission school took advantage of a defamation case brought by a troublesome teacher to reprimand him once and for all. The case rested on a close analysis of several writing samples and, in effect, the demonstration of literacy and professionalism. (NAZ, S2029, 1941–1946, 11/1946; cf. Newell Reference Newell2013). The plaintiff was the head teacher at a Mission school when his former student, in the throes of childbirth, claimed that he had impregnated her and fondled her breasts. She subsequently wrote a letter to the Mission to complain about the teacher’s behavior. Her letter set off several meetings among teachers, parents, and the school authorities and led to a case at the Chief’s court. The notes about the case state that the Chief’s court was unable to decide if the student had really written the letter or not. The notes do not provide any further information about the decision-making at the Chief’s court. However, the case was complicated since it involved a web of influential parties with deeply conflicted goals and motivations. In the meantime, the teacher was demoted and consequently earned less pay. He thought that the entire affair was rooted in another teacher’s anger with him because that teacher’s nephew had to work at the school just like all the other boys. In fact, he accused his colleague of writing the student’s letter to besmirch his name. He thus claimed GBP15 for being defamed by the student and his fellow teacher.

The case made its way to the NC’s court, where witnesses debated the genuineness of love letters between the teacher and student. For his part, the NC relied on a letter from the European superintendent of the school, who wrote that the teacher was of bad character. In addition, the superintendent enclosed several writing samples of the student’s handwriting, which the superintendent’s wife concluded were indeed written by the student. The superintendent said that school officials routinely examined handwriting samples when they suspected students of cheating on exams. In a note on the last page of the court case, the NC noted that he had compared the handwriting of several letters submitted to the court to a “hygiene test” enclosed in the Superintendent’s letter and concluded that the student had in fact written the letters. With that finding, the NC dismissed the case and presumably helped the Superintendent get rid of a troublesome employee. As the Superintendent wrote to the NC, “I have on several occasions advised [the teacher] to accept the discipline imposed and to show greater humility towards those set in authority over him. I have also shown my displeasure of his determination to cause a disturbance” (NAZ, S 2029, 1941–1946, 11/1946, enclosure [Superintendent] to ANC, Wedza, 6 September 1946). The superintendent added a last note on the envelope: “This fellow has wasted too much of our time, and I shall be glad to have the thing settled finally and absolutely” (NAZ, S 2029, 1941–1946, 11/1946, enclosure [Superintendent] to ANC, Wedza, 6 September 1946).

Defamation was a productive charge for everyone involved because it “performed social and legal work” (Peterson Reference Peterson2006:1006). As this case indicates, African litigants, missionaries, and government officials all understood how they could use an accusation of defamation to make public other concerns that were ancillary to the case but central to the concerns of all involved. The Mission rid itself of a teacher who refused to subordinate himself to Mission authorities; the teacher protected a relative by exposing the wrongdoing of a colleague; the student reframed her pregnancy as the result of the teacher’s mischief; and the NC could align himself neatly with the desires of the superintendent.

Expectations of Honor

By the 1950s, colonial officials accepted that African men employed by the state (as police, messengers, clerks, and nurses) had a professional honor that could be defamed, even if African officers did not always win their cases (see NAZ, S3145/18, 1243/1955). Indeed, the colonial courts became sites where the African elite could find support for their sense of honor. Elite litigants brought their cases to NCs’ courts with the expectation that they had an ally in NCs. For their part, NCs learned how to take defamation cases seriously; they took their cue from the litigants themselves. An NC summarized the significance of a 1958 defamation case that involved an accusation of adultery as central to middle class identity. “All the parties in this matter,” he wrote, “belong to the ‘respectable middle classes’ and are obviously taking the matter very seriously” (NAZ, S3145/25, Native Appeals Court, Case No. 96/56).

In fact, by the mid-1950s, there is evidence that African officials and other elites interpreted defamation as meaning that they deserved special protection because of their status. In some cases, elite plaintiffs claimed they were the victims of defamation even when they did not prove or refused to say that their standing in the community had suffered. A Native Messenger testified, “I feel my reputation and name have been defamed. I feel that as a Native Messenger this false accusation against me has given grounds for suspicion against my good character and spoilt my name. Although people haven’t actually talked about this matter to my face, I do not feel right about it and feel instead that they may be thinking I am a bad person” (NAZ, S2862, 73/1954). Similarly, in 1955, a policeman sued for defamation because someone had told his white superior that he was a thief. “I want [the] defendant,” he said, “to whiten my name because I am a policeman” (NAZ, S3145/17, 1148/1955). We can hear the firm assertion of status and the clear voice of entitlement that came with an office in the explanation for suing as simply, “People know I am a superior person” (NAZ, S3145/27, 1241/1956). Finally, professional women claimed protection as well. In a 1954 case, a plaintiff who worked at a clinic sued for defamation because another woman accused her of adultery with her husband. The plaintiff stated she was alarmed by the allegation and testified that she wanted to go to the NC immediately because she was “very ashamed and surprised at this accusation, which is false” (NAZ, S2862, 25/1954). During her testimony, she added, “Although I admit the adultery [the defendant] has spoiled my name by telling people about it.”

The assertion of entitlement by policemen, clerks, and other administrative officials was an outgrowth of their increasing sense of professionalism and the history of defamation law that put an accent on protecting officers of the state. That recognition, however, did not stop others from insulting African officers. In fact, as African nationalists mobilized against the Southern Rhodesian state, attacks on the prestige of soldiers and policeman became more acute. People were divided about such tactics, because they understood that African police and others suffered from racial inequality, which was a main target for nationalists’ wrath (Stapleton Reference Stapleton2011:ch. 2; Alexander Reference Alexander2017:170–72) In this context, the words and behavior African officials claimed as defamation looked and sounded more like dismissive contempt rather than an attack on character. In a case from 1956 an off-duty officer got into an expletive-laced tussle with another man who told him, “You man from Blantyre [Nyasaland], you think that you are important at the office of the Native Commissioner” (NAZ, S3145/22, 470/1956). Native Messengers, police, and clerks made sure NCs knew they were upstanding yet often maligned officials, in and outside the office.

Finally, it is worth noting that soldiers, police, clerks, and messengers were not the only people who asserted a sense of professional honor. A final example illustrates how, among others, teachers claimed professional competency as part of their personal dignity. In 1962, a Headmaster at a school sued a parent who accused him of incompetence for dismissing thirty-five students, five of whom were her children (NAZ, S3460/7, 1/62-52/62, 7/1962). The parent had confronted the Headmaster at a public meeting, which embarrassed the Headmaster. He explained his reasoning this way: “When I thought this over I came to the conclusion that this was malicious defamation of character as I have now been a teacher for 12 years. For 10 of these years I have been Headmaster.” In the formulaic way of such cases, the teacher asserted the parent’s gossip was “calculated to bring me into hatred contempt or ridicule in the minds of those parents. More than that it was also intended to injure my good name in the minds of my officials.” And with that, the teacher said, “There I end.” Win or lose, it appears that litigants were anxious to sue for defamation to bolster their reputation among those they most needed to respect them: employers (including NCs) and family members, but also friends, colleagues, and neighbors.

Humiliation, Shame, and Defamation

What do these cases say about the significance of colonial status to African ideas of honor? The cases are clear that the abstract behavior inherent in theft, adultery, witchcraft, and seduction represented broad, bold lines that should not be crossed by honorable people. They learned the vocabulary of the court, and they used it well. In extreme cases, such as the one this article began with, litigants responded to the court stipulation that they demonstrate the harm to their reputation by calling intimates, colleagues, and esteemed friends to the witness stand to denounce them as adulterers, liars, and cheats. African litigants learned their lines and played to the courts. This accent on the idea of performance illuminates a great deal and explains how African litigants managed to use a court system skewed against them to serve their own ends (Karekwaivanane Reference Karekwaivanane2011, Reference Karekwaivanane2017; Peterson Reference Peterson2006). But defamation cases made heavy demands on the litigants because they had to demonstrate that their reputation, and hence honor, had been harmed. There was an emotional investment in such cases.^{Footnote 2}

The vigorous courtroom strategies of the litigants remind us that honor was not won for all time. Instead, it was something that people had to explain and defend as circumstances changed. The testimony, and perhaps even rage, of litigants like Soffa speak to a changing world of status in Southern Rhodesia. At the same time, in the process of using the courts to sue for defamation, people undermined the guiding legal idea in the courts that shame was grounded wholly in so-called tribal status. In fact, as the testimony of aggrieved litigants reveals, they sued because their colonial status was injured, using their so-called “tribal status” strategically to accentuate the damage done and claim restitution.

It is surely correct to say that the litigants surveyed here employed their professional status to shield their questionable behavior from scrutiny. Still, from the evidence presented here, it appears that litigants took attacks on their professionalism very seriously. In a recent work that explores the history of the police in colonial Zimbabwe, Timothy Stapleton (2011:238) argues the “powerful assimilating force of police or military structures, with their traditions of loyalty, identity, and sacrifice” developed loyalty among African police, despite the rise of nationalism and a war. Likewise, Jocelyn Alexander’s (2017:168-74) biography of a former guerrilla fighter emphasizes his profound respect for the investigation skills and professional protocol he learned as a policeman in the Rhodesian police force. The idea that the professionalism learned in schools and on the job developed deeply-felt loyalty and informed core ideas of personal dignity invites us to examine defamation cases as revealing more than the performance of respectability and as more meaningful than simply securing a good-paying job. The history of the embarrassment and shame people testified to feeling on being defamed requires that historians pay attention to the litigants’ “close communities and dense networks of relationships,” because such communities were the source of “individual well-being” as well as “anguish” (Vaughan Reference Vaughan2010:400). The history of defamation cases offers historians insight into the emerging community of African professionals whose networks included colonial administrators and who, in turn, sought relief from their anguish and shame in the colonial courts whose language and ritual they had mastered.