Chieftaincy and democratic local governance in rural South Africa: Natural resources management in QwaQwa

Abstract

This paper examines the changing role of chieftaincy in relation to democratic institutions of local governance in QwaQwa in the Eastern Free State and in particular the implications for the management of natural resources. Referring to a case study of grass usage, the paper identifies the shift from chieftaincy to democratic local governance as one of the factors that have undermined the chiefs' control over the use of natural resources, as infrastructural development takes precedence over management of natural resources in municipal planning and service delivery. The ensuing absence of control over the use of grass broadly reflects the unclear institutional framework for natural resources management on communal land in rural South Africa. However, despite the power struggle that generally goes on between chiefs and elected councillors of QwaQwa, there is potential for building on areas of common interest to improve natural resources management in the area.

Keywords:

• chieftaincy
• municipality
• local government
• natural resources

1. Chieftaincy and democratic governance: The irony of co-existence

Despite recognising that chiefs acted on behalf of colonial powers as agents of indirect rule (Mamdani, 1996), most African states have, in practice, chosen to co-exist with the chiefs after attaining independence (Ribot, 1999; Beall, 2006). Some analysts, however, consider formal recognition of chiefs by independent African states to be retrogressive and contradictory to democratic ideals (Mamdani, 1996; Ntsebeza, 2005a). From this perspective, it is argued that African governments cannot claim to be democratic while accommodating chieftaincy.

The misfit between governance by chiefs and democratic governance1 is the result of non-democratic tendencies inherent in the institution of chieftaincy. Unlike democratic governance, where legitimacy of leadership is based on electoral representation, succession to chieftaincy is hereditary (Beall, 2006). Thus chieftaincy is discredited for lacking the means of holding leaders accountable to the electorate (Beall et al., 2005). Implied in this discourse is the direct association of elections with effective representation. A contrary discourse suggests that democratic elections do not guarantee accountable representation because they can be manipulated (Ribot, 1999). It is further argued that elections in themselves do not guarantee representatives who will deliver the expected outcomes (Anderson, 2006). This is sometimes seen in community based natural resources management projects where, instead of representing local populations, elected bodies may represent their own interests or those of particular leaders (Ribot, 1999; Serra, 2001).

In some African countries, such as South Africa, gatherings (known as imbizo in Zulu) or community councils (kgotla in Tswana) provide space for people to participate in decision making under the rule of a chief (Ntsebeza, 2005b). By accommodating the participation of local people in decision making, this practice arguably ensures accountability in the institution of chieftaincy. However, the fact that such gatherings are largely composed of men (Ntsebeza, 2005b) undermines their ability to effectively promote downward accountability to local people. Another area where chieftaincy is perceived to fall short of democratic expectations is the general exclusion of women from office (Walker, 1994). These criticisms are valid if viewed within a democratic paradigm.

However, alternative views suggest that non-participation of women in traditional societies is based on a value system which assigns distinct roles to genders without necessarily dispensing with the skills and capabilities of women (Garrigue, 2004). From this perspective, the role of chieftaincy is to carry out tasks that are seen as masculine: providing security against aggression from neighbouring communities, ensuring respect for cosmic order, administering justice in accordance with traditional rules, improving living conditions, enforcing respect for social values, and ensuring that the ownership and benefits of natural resources remain inside the community (Garrigue, 2004).

Regardless of its merits or demerits, chieftaincy is fundamentally different from democratic governance largely because succession to leadership is hereditary. It was therefore to be expected that when they adopted democratic governance, post-independent African states would choose to do away with chiefs. Nevertheless, African states continue to recognise the institution of chieftaincy in various ways. For example, chiefs were incorporated into administrative structures as civil servants in the independent states of former French colonies such as Senegal and Burkina Faso (Pacere, 1997). In Ghana the chiefs have a place in local government structures (Beall & Ngonyama, 2009). Likewise, laws have been passed in South Africa that provide constitutional protection to chieftaincy and attempt to define the role of chiefs in the context of democratic governance.

The ironic situation of democratic structures of governance co-existing with chieftaincy is attributed to African politicians' recognising the influence that chiefs have over their constituents (Beall, 2006). In South Africa, this recognition is reflected in the concessions the African National Congress (ANC) government has made to chiefs since the run-up to the first democratic elections, despite the chiefs' tainted history. According to Bank & Southall (1996), the ANC's pragmatic approach to chiefs was part of its strategy to develop a broad alliance in the build-up to constitutional negotiations.

The formation of the Congress of Traditional Leaders2 of South Africa (Contralesa) in 1987 worked in favour of the ANC because of the two organisations' shared values of liberation and democratisation. The ANC thus encouraged the formation of Contralesa as part of their strategy to woo the chiefs' support in the run-up to the 1994 elections (Bank & Southall, 1996). While many chiefs (including those from QwaQwa) joined the ANC-aligned Contralesa, many KwaZulu based chiefs remained loyal to Buthelezi and the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP). When the IFP threatened to boycott the first democratic elections because there was no constitutional protection for the chiefs, an amendment to the constitution was made to allow provincial constitutions to provide for the institution, role, authority and status of a traditional monarch, particularly for the Zulu monarch, in the case of the province of KwaZulu-Natal (Bank & Southall, 1996).

More concessions were made in the run-up to the second democratic elections in 2000 following chiefs' demands that municipalities be scrapped in rural areas (former homelands) in favour of tribal authorities that had been created during the apartheid era. One of the concessions was an amendment of the Municipal Structures Act to increase the representation of chiefs (without the right to vote) from 10 to 20% of the total number of councillors. Further, this amendment provided for chiefs to be represented at district and, in the case of KwaZulu Natal, at metropolitan level (Ntsebeza, 2005b).

2. Dual leadership: An inevitable choice?

The tension between chieftaincy and elected leadership prompts questions about whether the two forms of governance are mutually exclusive. Studies have shown that some local communities want chieftaincy and democratic institutions to work together in fostering development (Oomen, 2000; Goodenough, 2002; Williams, 2004). According to Williams (2004), some communities even encourage their chiefs to take part in electoral processes, which suggests a desire by such communities to have a combination of chieftaincy and elected leadership.

The demand by South African chiefs that municipalities be scrapped from rural areas suggests unwillingness on their part to co-exist with elected representatives. However, not all chiefs take this position. For example, during the official launch of Contralesa as a national body in 1990, the Chairperson Chief Patekile Holomisa encouraged chiefs to become more receptive to processes of democratisation at the village level and to make themselves accountable for their actions at the local level. He further pointed out that chiefs would have to learn to co-exist with democratically elected residents' associations (Daily Dispatch, 18 September 1990, cited in Bank & Southall 1996).

Some analysts believe that the continued influence of chiefs in South Africa despite the introduction of democratic institutions at local level means that chieftaincy is unlikely to disappear in the foreseeable future. From this perspective it is worthwhile defining the role of chieftaincy in relation to democratic institutions (Venson, 1997; Rihoy et al., 1999; Peires, 2000; Goodenough, 2002; Pycroft, 2002). The concessions made by the ANC suggest that policy reforms to accommodate chieftaincy have so far not been based on deliberate efforts to harness opportunities (if any) from chieftaincy; rather, policy has been promulgated as a political response to pressure and the chiefs' opportunistic tendencies to use their influence over rural populations to their own advantage.

Given the likelihood that chieftaincy will continue to have an influence on local populations in the former homeland of QwaQwa, this paper reflects on whether chieftaincy can play a role in democratic local governance here. In particular, referring to a case study of grass usage, the paper looks at what the de facto co-existence of chieftaincy and elected leadership in the area implies for natural resources management.

3. QwaQwa site description and research design

QwaQwa (whose municipality is now known as Maluti-a-Phofung) is located in South Africa's Free State Province (see Figure 1). Like other rural areas in South Africa, QwaQwa was governed by cultural traditions until 1974, when the area was declared a homeland for the southern Sotho tribe. Under the homeland policy, chiefs exercised political control over homeland inhabitants by performing functions on behalf of central government in addition to their regular tribal affairs (Pycroft, 2002). Democratisation has led to multiple institutional reforms, with municipalities (which are led by elected councillors) becoming responsible for all matters of local governance and development.

Figure 1: Location of QwaQwa in South Africa

QwaQwa is dominated by grassland vegetation as it falls within the grassland biome of the eastern Free State (Low & Rebelo, 1996). It is therefore not surprising that grass has important livelihood functions in QwaQwa, such as grazing and thatching (Schoemann, 2002) and weaving (Slater, 2002), and these made it an obvious choice for a case study of natural resource management here.

Field data were collected between March and August 2007 through focus group discussions and in-depth interviews. The respondents were chiefs, councillors and individual grass users, and two government officials from the Department of Agriculture. A total of 21 community leaders, four councillors and 17 chiefs, participated in the research. The councillors were randomly selected, but the chiefs were deliberately drawn from each of the three QwaQwa tribal groups, the Kwenas, Tlokwas and Kgolokwes, in order to get a diversity of responses. The 28 individuals users were 18 weavers of various items for household or commercial purposes, five livestock owners, four vegetable garden owners who used grass for mulching and manure making, and one traditional healer. In addition, an institutional mapping exercise was done with selected community members to elicit information about the chiefs' role in controlling grass use in the past and in the current context of democratic local governance.

4. The demise of traditional control over grass usage in QwaQwa

The role of chiefs in natural resources management, including the use of grass in QwaQwa, dates back to the pre-colonial period when chiefs were the only local governance institution in South Africa. The chiefs were concerned in managing traditional practices of use and conservation of grass. For example, seasonal preservation of grass was practised by prohibiting grazing along river banks and on the veld during summer so that there would be grass for winter grazing and thatching. During this time cattle would graze elsewhere.

Besides its use for livestock, grass was used in QwaQwa, as it still is today, as weaving material for household items such as baskets, mats, hats, ropes and brooms. Traditional practices for conserving grass for weaving were mostly to do with the allocation of farmland and building sites. In general, areas where grass grew that was suitable for weaving were not allocated for farming or settlement.

According to chiefs, government officials, councillors and those who use grass as weaving material, chiefs played many roles in regulating access to grass resources in the past based on traditional practices of grass conservation. They created awareness about the importance of grass, granted permission to collect grass for any purpose, allocated grazing sites, supervised management operations during demarcation of preservation areas and enforced the laws.

Prior to colonial occupation, QwaQwa was occupied by Sothos under the chieftaincy of Wetsie (hence the original name of the area, ‘Witsieshoek’, which means ‘Wetsie's corner’; Bank, 1995). The Orange Free State Government (as it was then called) gave Witsieshoek to a group of refugees who had supported white settlers in the Sotho wars of 1867. These refugees were led by Mopeli Mokhachane (Quinlan, 1986). The treaty signed between Mokhachane and the OFS Government identified Mokhachane as a chief of the Kwena ‘tribe’, thereby transforming Witsieshoek into a Kwena chiefdom (Bank, 1995). This colonial construction marked the birth of the BaKwena tribe. Originally, ‘BaKwena’ was simply a clan name which was shared by Mokhachane and other Sothos within and beyond the Basotho polity (Quinlan, 1986). In the last quarter of the nineteenth century, two more groups of Sothos, belonging to the Tlokwa and Kgolokwe tribes, were permitted by the OFS Government to enter QwaQwa on the basis of their claims of previous occupation (Bank, 1995).

Despite the current heterogeneity of QwaQwa, which was shaped by colonial construction of tribal identities, the traditional practices of natural resource use are united by Sotho ethnicity. In this study similar responses were obtained regarding traditional practices of grass usage, irrespective of the tribal differences of the respondents.

Traditional practices of grass usage and the role of traditional leaders in regulating these practices have gradually disappeared, for various reasons. Some of the elderly interviewees (chiefs and councillors) had first-hand experience of the traditional practices, which suggests that the practices could not have been completely abandoned at the onset of colonial rule. At the same time, the possibility that colonial rule contributed to the disappearance of traditional practices cannot be ruled out. For example, the fact that occupation of QwaQwa by the Kwena, Tlokwa and Kgolokwe tribes was based on permission being granted by the colonial OFS Government after the Sotho wars of 1867 meant that their legitimacy of occupation was based on their acceptance of the political authority of the colonial government.

As a result of this history, tribal leaders were obliged to comply with colonial policies, some of which contradicted cultural and traditional practices. For example, the betterment policies of livestock culling in the 1940s were not in line with cultural practices and were rejected by Wessels Mota, a Tlokwa chief, on the basis that livestock culling was done by indigenous means of killing cattle during annual circumcision ceremonies (Bank, 1995).

Erosion of traditional control over grass use practices continued during the apartheid era. According to Goodenough (2002), it was even more difficult for traditional leaders to resist government policies during the apartheid era because they were paid by the government. Under such circumstances, it would be difficult to adhere strictly to traditional practices of grass use in QwaQwa.

The resettlement programme of 1975 resulted in thousands of people being relocated to QwaQwa. Given that QwaQwa was too small for agricultural development, the apartheid development strategy for the homeland was to have a vibrant urban economy in order to attract urban South Sotho people to QwaQwa. However, despite such efforts to entice them, most refused to relocate and had to be forced out of white-owned towns and farms in the Orange Free State (Bank, 1995). The general African population who felt they had everything to gain by relocating to QwaQwa after they had been dispossessed of their land by white farmers relocated voluntarily (Bank, 1995). The influx of newcomers to an area where there had been an acute shortage of arable land since colonial days worsened the situation in QwaQwa, as farmland belonging to existing inhabitants was turned into settlement villages (Pickles & Woods, 1992). One of the study respondents noted that the influx of newcomers led to further decline of traditional practices of grass use, saying that ‘the newcomers came with their own lifestyles which diluted existing cultural values and practices’ (interview, Ward Councillor, Phomolong Village, July 2007).

Among the newcomers were businessmen and better educated households. The former were able to benefit from the dense population that resulted from the evictions, while the latter were able to secure jobs in state subsidised enterprises that had been established in QwaQwa and other homelands (Seekings et al., 2004). These income earning groups were less dependent on direct use of grass for their livelihoods and so less concerned with adhering to traditional practices of grass use. In addition, some of those who relocated voluntarily (the general African population) were not of Sotho origin, in which case they had their own way of living.

Today, traditional grass use and management is no longer practised. One respondent said that in the past chiefs would set aside land for winter grazing, but that now ‘we have moved away from the chief to the municipality, but the municipality is not doing much to assist in the management of the grassland’ (interview, Department of Agriculture Official, Thabo Mofutsanyana District, July 2007). It is evident from this statement that the respondent believed the institutional reforms in local government have contributed to the demise of traditional control over grass use in QwaQwa.

Democratisation has affected traditional practices in QwaQwa. It was reported by councillors and chiefs that people's misunderstandings of democracy were leading some of them to start bushfires as an expression of their democratic rights.

The general shift towards modernity also contributes to the breakdown of traditional control over the use of grass. A typical example of the modernisation of cultural practices is the commercialisation of weaving. While weaving was previously done for household items, it is now being done for sale to local and external markets. This has increased the demand for grass, some of which is being obtained from outside QwaQwa. This being the trend, it is unlikely that chiefs can retain their former regulatory functions and expect to get the same results in terms of grassland management.

5. Policy and practice

The Constitution of the Republic of South Africa recognises three spheres of government: national, provincial and local, which are distinctive, interlinked and interrelated (RSA, 1996). The local sphere consists of municipalities. Conceptualised as ‘developmental local government,’ their central responsibility is ‘to work together with local communities to find sustainable ways to meet their needs and improve the quality of their lives’ (RSA, 1998).

As part of creating liveable integrated areas, municipalities are expected to enhance environmental sustainability by including environmental issues in their planning processes (RSA, 1998). Planning for environmental sustainability is an integral part of the integrated development plan (IDP) process, a planning tool for municipalities to achieve their development mandate. Integration of environmental sustainability is based on the understanding that social and economic services depend on the health of ecological and community systems (RSA, 1998).

While municipalities are expected to undertake environmental management functions as an integral part of development planning, it is not clear whether they have an overall mandate for all forms of environmental management within their jurisdiction. This can only be inferred from their responsibility for all matters of governance and development at local level. Within this framework, the White Paper on Local Government (RSA, 1998) requires municipalities to inform and consult with chiefs about municipal projects or programmes within the chiefs' area. In other words, the White Paper foresees a continued role of chiefs in local governance while recognising that full decision-making authority is the responsibility of municipalities. The local municipality responsible for QwaQwa may therefore want to draw lessons from the historical role of chiefs in grass management on communal land to develop plans that promote grassland management despite changes in the context of grass use today. To do this would be consistent with the White Paper's provisions for municipalities as regards informing and consulting with chiefs.

Besides the White Paper on Local Government, there are other pieces of legislation that effectively uphold the institution of chieftaincy within the context of democratic governance which have a bearing on natural resources in general and usage of grass in particular. The Traditional Leadership and Governance Framework Amendment Act No. 41 of 2003 provides for the recognition of traditional communities and traditional leaders. The Act further provides for the establishment of houses (councils) of traditional leaders at national, provincial, district and local levels. These councils are made up of representative traditional leaders at the different levels of governance (RSA, 2003a). At a local level, the traditional councils' functions are as follows: supporting municipalities in facilitating community involvement in development planning processes; communicating community needs to municipalities and other spheres of government; recommending appropriate interventions to government to bring about development and service delivery; promoting indigenous knowledge systems for sustainable development; participating in the development programmes of municipalities and other spheres of government; and participating in the development of policy and legislation at local level (RSA, 2003a).

It can be seen from the above list that the chiefs' roles are limited to support, participation and making recommendations to municipalities (and other spheres of government), as opposed to decision making and leadership. In effect, the Act recognises the mandate of elected leadership in local governance while creating space for chiefs to play a role. The provision in the Act for chiefs to promote indigenous knowledge systems for sustainable development creates space for the possible integration of indigenous grass resource conservation practices in QwaQwa which, as indicated above, have been eroded over time.

The Communal Land Rights Bill (RSA, 2003b) uses the traditional councils created by the Traditional Leadership Framework Act to give chiefs a land administration role. The Bill provides for the exercise of powers and duties of land administration by traditional councils wherever such councils are recognised. This Bill is problematic when one considers that both the White Paper on Local Government and the Traditional Leadership and Governance Framework Amendment Act envisage chiefs playing a role without taking full responsibility for rural local governance and development. Accordingly, the Bill drew criticisms from groups such as gender and land rights activists on the grounds that it represented a significant retrogression in what should be the advancement of property rights in rural South Africa (Ntsebeza, 2006; Beall & Ngonyama, 2009).

Notwithstanding the questions raised by the Communal Land Rights Bill, considerations taken into account or ignored by chiefs in allocating land in accordance with this legal framework have implications for natural resources such as trees, grass, soil and watercourses. In QwaQwa, this applies to grass in particular. As mentioned above, QwaQwa chiefs took the value of grass into consideration when allocating farmland and residential sites in the past. By granting chiefs the authority to allocate land in rural areas, the Communal Land Rights Bill ideally provides a framework within which chiefs in QwaQwa can participate in grass conservation by applying traditional practices of land allocation.

However, while the general accommodation of chiefs in various pieces of legislation seems favourable to their involvement in local governance in general and grass management in particular, the chiefs in this study felt they could not regulate grass usage anymore because their powers had been eroded.

Of importance to the grassland vegetation of QwaQwa is the existence of a division in the Department of Agriculture that has a mandate for grassland management among other functions. However, the Department officials who were consulted said that the municipality was better placed than they were to manage the use of grass on communal land, since the municipality is locally situated. The Department operates at district level overseeing five municipalities and does not have adequate extension capacity to effectively address issues that are specific to QwaQwa, which is just a section of one municipality. Some councillors, on the other hand, felt that the Department was well placed to regulate grassland use (particularly grazing) because, unlike the councillors, agricultural extension officers are trained in livestock management.

Equally important is the necessity of supporting mechanisms for the implementation of any policy to be effective. By their own admission, the QwaQwa councillors do not have the technical capacity for grass management. Thus they cannot advise farmers on sustainable grazing methods or sustainable harvesting of grass for weaving and other uses. At the same time, their municipality (the Maluti-a-Phofung Municipality) does not have a dedicated office for grass (or broadly natural resources) management in its administrative structure. The Department of Agriculture officials' expectation that the municipality should undertake tasks that can better be done by the Department simply because of the local positioning of councillors is not based on a defined working relationship between the Department and the municipality. As mentioned above, it is the limited number of extension workers more than any other cause that constrains the Department's capacity to support farmers effectively in managing grass resources in QwaQwa.

6. An institutional vacuum

Acknowledging the role that chiefs used to play in grass management, one of the respondent councillors said:

We know that by law councillors are responsible for grass management. But we follow our tradition. Chiefs are the ones who are responsible for grass. The focus of councillors is on infrastructural service delivery. (Interview, Councillor, Phomolong Village, July 2007)

This statement suggests that grass management is not perceived as part of the agenda of the municipality because its core business is infrastructural service delivery and not natural resources management. This perception sits awkwardly with the need to integrate environmental sustainability into local government planning as required by the IDP framework, according to which sustainability of all forms of service provision requires protection of the natural environment. It can be argued that councillors' shifting of responsibility to chiefs, while acknowledging that grassland management is part of the mandate of the municipality, further reflects lack of grassland management capacity in the municipality.

The conflicting expectations of the Department of Agriculture and the municipality suggest insufficient clarity about which institution is primarily responsible for the management of grass resources in communal areas such as QwaQwa. This is also reflected in the mixed perceptions of responsibility for grass management within Maluti-a-Phofung Municipality, with some councillors pointing to the Department of Agriculture and other councillors suggesting that this responsibility is legally misplaced in the municipality because it is in reality the domain of chieftaincy. Shackleton (2009) provides an explanation for the unclear institutional framework that is applicable to the use of grass in QwaQwa as much as to the broader South African context of natural resource use. He argues that the ecosystem value and the livelihoods provided to many rural communities by natural resources that occur outside protected areas are hardly recognised, hence the absence of a government department that has a clear, comprehensive and financed focus on promoting natural resource use.

A combination of the demise of traditional control over use of grass by chiefs, the limited number of extension workers in the Department of Agriculture, the focus of the municipality on infrastructural service delivery as opposed to the biophysical environment, and the general unclear institutional framework for grass management responsibility leave grass usage stranded as no one's responsibility.

7. Adjusting to change

A chief of Thibela Village stated that during the inception of the Thaba Blinds Factory (one of the commercial weaving enterprises in QwaQwa) he mobilised skilful women from the foothills of the Drakensberg to train others in weaving. He was also instrumental in leading early members of the factory into specific areas of communal land that are endowed with grass species suitable for weaving. Although it can be argued that he was helping the enterprise in an individual capacity, he certainly used his position as a chief to grant it access to grass.

Given that chiefs used to grant permission to those who wanted to collect grass for any purpose in the past, the foregoing example shows efforts by a single chief to strategically re-position his influence during the early phases of grass commercialisation in view of the changing context of grass use. With increased commercialisation, however, the chiefs' role has become even less significant as grass weavers have started buying raw materials from villagers. Commercialisation has meant increased demand for grass, leading weavers to broaden their supply base by obtaining grass from places other than QwaQwa communal land. Consequently, chiefs are no longer involved in the grass supply chain.

It was reported by councillors, community respondents and chiefs that councillors go through chiefs whenever they want to hold meetings with the community. On this basis, it can be said that chiefs are contributing to civic participation in municipal governance by acting as agents of community mobilisation. Indeed, this practice signifies the continued influence of chiefs over local populations in QwaQwa. The influence of chiefs and community support for chiefs were reflected in most of the interviews with community members and in the institutional mapping exercise.

According to community members who participated in this study, elected councillors and chiefs have different roles. The traditional leaders' roles include allocating land or providing access to it, being a witness to a councillor and authorising funeral rituals. Councillors, on the other hand, are responsible for infrastructural service delivery such as housing, electricity, roads and sanitation facilities, and for signing papers for eligibility to receive grants. This perceived distinction of roles notwithstanding, the respondent communities expressed a preference for interacting more with chiefs than with councillors in matters of local governance. The reason commonly given for this preference was that chiefs are readily available whenever their services are required. Individual respondents also said that QwaQwa residents respect chiefs because the institution of chieftaincy is a symbol of culture that defines their identity.

Some respondent chiefs expressed concern about the difficulties of getting their development proposals for local projects such as road construction approved by the local municipality. This is evidence of a departure by the chiefs from their role of mere custodians of custom, as it is commonly perceived, to a stronger role in development and service delivery. At the same time, submission of such development proposals raises an important question about whether they participate in the integrated development planning processes as expected by the framework of developmental local government. By seeking to undertake parallel processes of facilitating local development, the chiefs are trying to define their role in the current institutional context in order to remain relevant in the face of the growing need for infrastructural service delivery in QwaQwa. The general reluctance by the municipality to approve proposals submitted by chiefs is logical in the sense that integrated development planning requires participatory processes of setting development priorities rather than responding to isolated project proposals outside the municipality's IDP framework.

8. Conclusion

This paper describes the continued influence of chiefs on local affairs in QwaQwa despite the introduction of democratically elected councillors. The paper also highlights a power struggle between chiefs and elected councillors. This struggle is reflected in the quest by chiefs to facilitate development projects outside the municipal planning system and the general reluctance of the municipality to recognise such initiatives. While the chiefs' pursuit of development objectives is praiseworthy, their desire to use the provisions of the much-needed infrastructural services as a means of re-asserting their influence over QwaQwa residents conflicts with some councillors' perception that infrastructure development is the core business of the municipality.

The power struggle between chiefs and councillors partly contributes to an institutional absence of control over grass usage since, for different reasons, both institutional structures attach more importance to infrastructural service delivery than to grass management. At the same time, this absence is due to multiple factors: the demise of traditional control over grass use by chiefs, the limited number of extension workers in the Department of Agriculture, the municipality's focus on infrastructural service delivery as opposed to the biophysical environment, and the generally unclear institutional framework for grass management on communal land.

Apart from the power struggle, the co-existence of elected leaders and chiefs in QwaQwa has some aspects that could be considered positive. By acting as an ‘entry point’ whenever councillors want to hold meetings with communities, chiefs are arguably involved in community mobilisation for civic participation in municipal governance. Although this role is not specific to grass management, chiefs in QwaQwa are using their influence to facilitate people's involvement in local government development planning processes.

Given their continued influence over QwaQwa residents, the chiefs' ability to mobilise local communities for meetings called by councillors could be maximised for the sake of the ultimate goal of developmental local government, i.e. working together with local communities to find sustainable ways to meet their needs and improve the quality of their lives (RSA, 1998). Similarly, the chiefs' indigenous knowledge about grass use and management could be useful to QwaQwa development, particularly because of the livelihood value of grass in the area. But this knowledge cannot be applied wholesale to the current context because of the changes in patterns of grass usage as exemplified in the commercialisation of weaving.

At the same time, in order to participate more effectively in local governance of natural resources, the chiefs ought to appreciate the importance of broad-based public participation so they will add value rather than undermine the essence of democratic local governance. As long as councillors keep on holding meetings by going through chiefs because the meetings cannot take place otherwise, the essence of having democratically elected leaders in the aim of allowing affected local communities to have a say in their own affairs is compromised.

Looking at the general support of QwaQwa residents for their chiefs, it seems likely that chiefs will continue to influence local affairs in QwaQwa in the foreseeable future. It is, therefore, worthwhile for both chiefs and elected councillors to identify and build on areas of common interest. Such areas include community mobilisation in a manner that promotes broad-based civic participation in local governance and the management of grass for the benefit of QwaQwa residents.

Acknowledgements

The authors would like to thank the respondents who shared their views with us during the research process. The research was part funded through the Carnegie Corporation, the National Research Foundation and the Council for the Development of Social Science Research in Africa. Any omissions or errors remain our own.

Notes

¹The term ‘democratic governance’ is used in this paper to refer to the local government system which is led by elected representatives, without necessarily implying that the system is democratic by all standards.

²The term ‘chief’ is used interchangeably with ‘traditional leader’.