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Abstract

The article historically analyses the changing relations between chiefs, ‘subjects’ and the state in Zimbabwe and Botswana. Entirely qualitative, it reviews published and unpublished sources. The article utilises three interrelated theories: bureaucracy, legal pluralism, and political clientelism. African chieftainship predates the colonial period, although this era has fundamentally altered it. The article argues that in colonial Zimbabwe and Botswana, chiefs were bureaucratised and became state functionaries. This weakened them and compromised the age-old relations with their ‘subjects’. To navigate this intricate situation, chiefs thrived on their clientelistic relations with the colonial state and their ‘subjects’. The colonial state created a legal dual system. The chiefs played a critical role as the intermediaries between their ‘subjects’ and the state in a legal dual system. For instance, they collected taxes and maintained law and order. In postcolonial Zimbabwe and Botswana, chiefs have also become more accountable to the state and ruling parties than their ‘subjects’. In both countries, the state appoints, recognises, de-recognises and can depose a chief. Chiefs often complain of state’s subjugation, but this is understandable given the protection and benefits they receive from the state.

Keywords

Chiefs subjects political clientelism bureaucracy legal pluralism Botswana Zimbabwe

Introduction and context

Across Africa, traditional leaders (generally known as chiefs) ‘are prone to state-sponsored patronage politics which has rendered them more accountable to the state than to the people they lead’ (Nkomo, 2020: 156). This has roots in the colonial period. In pre-colonial Africa, traditional leaders derived authority from traditions, customs and unwritten customary laws and were ‘the sole governance structure’ (Chigwata, 2016: 70). However, the advent of colonialism redefined, and even dismantled, their roles and functions. This has radically reduced the chiefs’ authority, power and influence. It has also weakened their accountability and relevance to the governed (Chigwata, 2016: 69–90; Gonçalves, 2006: 29). Weinrich (1971), Mamdani (1996), Ntsebeza (2005), Oomen (2005), Gonçalves (2005), Morapedi (2005, 2010) and Nkomo (2020, 2021) contend that African chiefs became functionaries of the colonial state, mainly carrying out administrative functions, such as collecting tax and maintaining law and order. ‘Where chiefs were not found they had to be invented’, argues Gonçalves (2005: 64). This brought about confusion on the chieftaincy lineages across Africa. Moreover, the colonial administration could depose any chief it regarded uncooperative and rebellious. Instead, a loyal and cooperative chief was ‘found’/‘invented’ and imposed (Gonçalves, 2005: 64). Fearing reprisals, most chiefs supported the colonial state and would come to represent what Mamdani (1996) calls ‘decentralised despotism’ (p. 37).

In pre-colonial Africa, ‘subjects’ who were dissatisfied with their leaders’ rule had an option of exiting to join other leaders. They could also establish their new chiefdom if they had the military power. Among the Tswana, the assassination of despotic chiefs was common (Morton, 2017: 699). Apart from violence, the oppressed ‘subjects’ resorted to subtle means of dissention and sabotage, such as refusing to participate in cultural and religious ceremonies and festivities organised by oppressive leaders (Bourdillon, 1997: 61). With few exceptions, African chiefs had no standing armies or police force to enforce their rule and will. They primarily relied on the cooperation of their ‘subjects’ (Bourdillon, 1997: 61; Morapedi, 2010: 219; Schapera, 1938: 84). This acted as checks and balances since ‘the chief’s power depended on the support of his people and was therefore limited’ (Bourdillon, 1997: 61). Thus, African chiefs did not wield absolute power and authority, as the colonisers assumed.

Following colonial conquests and the subsequent establishment of the Westphalia type state, the boundaries of African chiefs became certain, permanent and perpetuity guaranteed by the colonisers. ‘Subjects’ could no longer depose any chief as revolts and assassinations were outlawed and punishable. The new ‘protection’ was not a benevolent gesture, but in exchange for the chiefs’ total subjugation (Mamdani, 1996; Oomen, 2005). However, some chiefs used the new ‘protection’ to access and acquire resources. In some instances, they used them (resources) to undermine the colonial administration. ‘Subjects’ were caught between their chiefs and the colonial state. Both could no longer exercise the traditional exit option since the territorial boundaries were fixed and the movements across jurisdictions strictly controlled by the state.

Following decolonisation, some African political leaders, especially the self-proclaimed modernists, saw the chiefs as ‘impediments to modernisation and nation-building and tried to curtail their role in local government and national politics’ (Ubink, 2013: 124). Some saw them as traitors. For instance, in Mozambique, under Samora Machel, and Tanzania, under Julius Nyerere, the chieftaincy was ‘abolished’ (Ubink, 2013). On the contrary, some African political leaders viewed chiefs as necessary for nation-building, as in Botswana (Proctor, 1968) and Zambia (Ubink, 2013). African chiefs’ uncanny relationship with their ‘subjects’, the modern state and ruling parties has helped them survive despite some having predicted their extinction in the face of modernity and democracy (Gonçalves, 2005; Morapedi, 2010; Ntsebeza, 2005).

Chiefs exhibit resilience, re-negotiate and re-assert their existence and relevance without antagonising their ‘subjects’ and the state. They accept the state’s authority and largely benefit from it, but minimally account to their ‘subjects’ for the manner they project power. The state also benefits from chiefs since they have become ‘part of the “modern” political landscape as any legislature or local council’ (Logan, 2013: 353). The postcolonial state in Botswana, led by the Botswana Democratic Party (BDP) since independence in 1966, and Zimbabwe, led by the Zimbabwe African National Union-Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF) since independence in 1980, has curtailed chiefs’ powers in different ways, as the article shows.

It uses a qualitative research method of document analysis. Document analysis has been widely used in History, Sociology and Anthropology. It simply means ‘the processes of locating and analyzing facts or trends in already existing documents’ (Pershing, 2002: 36). Analysing documents ‘opens up many new sources of understanding’ (Taylor and Bogdan, 1998: 129–130). In addition, Morgan (2022) argues that ‘Analyzing documents, such as books and journal articles, can be beneficial also because of the stability of the data’ (p. 66). The method is unobtrusive, and the researcher cannot influence the participants, as in interviews and participant observation (Morgan, 2022: 66). In view of the foregoing, the article analyses published and unpublished sources, such as books, journal articles and newspaper articles, and legislative documents on chieftainship in Zimbabwe and Botswana. Using the interrelated theories of political clientelism, bureaucracy and legal pluralism, it analyses the changing relations between chiefs, ‘subjects’ and the state in Zimbabwe and Botswana. The colonial and postcolonial state has subjugated chiefs and eroded their authority that was based mainly on accountability to and active participation of ‘subjects’ in the governance processes, custodianship of land, and the link between the people and their ancestors.

Theoretical framework

Chiefs ‘often survive and occasionally even thrive during the formation of modern states’ (Tieleman and Uitermark, 2019: 707). Yet, modernisation theorists had predicted that chiefs faced extinction (Harneit-Sievers, 1998: 57; Warnier, 1993: 318) and would be replaced by bureaucracy and democratic institutions (Logan, 2009; Nyamnjoh, 2014). Since the 1990s, there has been a resurgence of chieftaincy in developing countries (Tieleman and Uitermark, 2019). In 2020, for instance, 75% of sub-Saharan African countries constitutionally recognised chiefs, compared to 50% in 1990 (Holzinger et al., 2020: 984). Afrobarometer surveys also show that Africans view chiefs as ‘important’ and ‘express desire for a greater political role of traditional leaders’ (Holzinger et al., 2020: 974). However, the African state has stifled the chiefs’ powers in favour of bureaucracy.

Bureaucracy implies a ‘normative structure where government is founded on authority, that is, the belief in a legitimate, rational-legal political order and the right of the state to define and enforce the legal order’ (Olsen, 2006: 2–3). A bureaucratic governance system dates to the Qin and Han dynasties in China (Creel, 1964: 159). In a bureaucracy, the legal authority to rule is achieved through a social contract ‘between citizens and elected representatives’ (Olsen, 2006: 3), whereas traditional rule is hereditary (Weinrich, 1971: 2). But Africans living in traditional-state dualism ‘do not draw as sharp a distinction between hereditary chiefs and elected local government officials as most analysts would expect’ (Logan, 2009: 101). Bureaucracy is considered superior to traditional authority because it ‘is based on legal and rational decisions’ and ‘rational knowledge and expertise’ (Farazmand, 2010: 246). The ideal Weberian bureaucracies operate within ‘the norms of democratic policy making’ and are ‘storehouses of expertise’ (Meier, 1997: 195). They rely on formal education unlike the traditional authority. However, in the real world, ‘bureaucracies appear to be more patronage-based and less meritoriously oriented’ (Farazmand, 2010: 247). Bureaucracy is also seen as an instrument of repression, domination and control by the ruling elites (Farazmand, 2010: 246). In short, the ideal Weberian bureaucracy is non-existent. What exists is an ‘approximation or combination of merit and patronage, near specialization, and some degree of rules’ (Farazmand, 2010: 246). In theory, bureaucracy rejects hereditary rule.

The theory of bureaucracy has been used to analyse ‘the transition from patriarchal’ to bureaucratised chiefs in colonial Zimbabwe (Weinrich, 1971: 1). The transition was fraught with tensions, especially when ‘the former patriarch [. . .] tries[d] to become, or is forced to become, a bureaucrat [. . .]’ (Weinrich, 1971: 4). Nyamnjoh (2014) uses the same theory to analyse the resilience of chiefs in Cameroon and Botswana. Botswana’s ruling elite has stifled chiefs’ powers in favour of bureaucrats and modern institutions (Proctor, 1968; Manatsha, 2024). In a traditional-state dualism, the state governs and regulates chiefs (Holzinger et al., 2016: 469).

Legal pluralism is ‘a situation in which two or more legal systems coexist in the same social field’ (Merry, 1988: 870). The colonisers imposed foreign legal systems creating legal dualism. Traditional legal systems were confined to the rural areas, where ‘subjects’ lived. Chiefs spoke ‘the language of custom, culture, [and] community’, whereas the state spoke ‘the language of modern civil rule, civil society, and civil rights’ (Eggen, 2011: 313). In the urban areas, a ‘citizen’ enjoyed these rights, while a ‘subject’ did not (Eggen, 2011: 313; Mamdani, 1996). In general, legal dualism birthed ‘traditional-state dualism’ (Holzinger et al., 2016: 469), ‘parallel state’ (Baldwin, 2019: 1928; Eggen, 2011: 313), ‘bifurcated state’ (Eggen, 2011: 314; Mamdani, 1996), ‘dual polities’ (Holzinger et al., 2016: 469) and ‘hybrid political orders’ (Bauer, 2016: 222–223; Boege et al., 2009). Out of the 193 United Nations’ member states, 61 ‘explicitly recognise forms of traditional governance and customary law’ (Holzinger et al., 2016: 469). In Africa, traditional authority and modern state institutions coexist, and the stability of another ‘is predicated on the continued existence of the other’ (Tieleman and Uitermark, 2019: 710). Thus, the chieftainship ‘constitutes a key component of state power and everyday governance’ (Eggen, 2011: 313). In a legal dual state, the chiefs’ authority ‘is backed by legal-rational state power’ (Tieleman and Uitermark, 2019: 709).

To consolidate power, the colonial and postcolonial states established complex political clientelism. Political clientelism is ‘a system of patron-broker-client ties and networks that dominate a society’s politics and government’ (Kettering, 1988: 419). The state and political parties extend favours and resources to the disadvantaged groups in exchange for votes and political support, a common practice in Africa (Eggen, 2011; Nkomo, 2020). In colonial Africa as well, chiefs received benefits in exchange for political support and being the intermediaries between the state and their ‘subjects’. In postcolonial Africa, the clientelistic relationship between the state and chiefs has deepened. Thus, the chiefs have become willing agents in securing votes for the ruling elites in exchange for state’s favours, such as monetary rewards (Muriaas, 2009: 38–48; Nkomo, 2020: 152–170). Chiefs also maintain clientelistic relationships with their ‘subjects’ by controlling access to state’s social security services, subsidised agricultural inputs, land, donor supplied food and some packages, and other benefits, as in Zimbabwe (Mkodzongi, 2016; Nkomo, 2020). In Malawi, a parallel state exists, and ‘the president, [. . .] now has two state hierarchies available for the execution of power’ (Eggen, 2011: 315). In general, the modern state deprives the chiefs much of their former power, but it equally provides ‘a framework that secures and enshrines some of their specific claims and roles’ (Tieleman and Uitermark, 2019: 710). In postcolonial Zimbabwe and Botswana, traditional-state dualism survives partly due to clientelistic relations.

Pre-colonial traditional leadership institutions in Zimbabwe

The San are the first settlers in present-day Zimbabwe. The invading Bantu-speakers defeated them and dispossessed their land. The Bantu formed, in a chronological order, the states of ‘Mapungubwe, Great Zimbabwe, Mutapa, and the Torwa/Rozwi’ (Mlambo, 2014: 10). The Torwa/Rozwi was defeated by the invading militaristic Nguni groups, who later established the Ndebele state in western Zimbabwe. In 1893/1894, the Ndebele state was crashed by the Whites and subsequently replaced by the colonial White settler state (Mlambo, 2014: 10). The term ‘Shona’, as used herein, is a colonial creation referring to an amalgam of ‘people with a similar linguist, cultural and political past but referred to themselves and were known by others by various names’ (Mlambo, 2014: 10), such as Zezuru, Nyika, Korekore, Karanga, and Ndau. Chiefs in pre-colonial Zimbabwe were religious leaders, typically being the descendants of the ancestral spirits that founded the chiefdom. In some areas, the ancestors of the defeated earlier inhabitants remained dominant and were consulted on key decisions that affected the amalgamated communities. Shona chiefs had a responsibility for rainmaking, ensuring land fertility, and presiding over religious and cultural ceremonies (Bourdillon, 1997: 59). There were institutions and mechanisms to check their powers. Besides the chief’s mother, the senior muzukuru (sister’s eldest son) was a critical accountability relation, who could counsel, and publicly caution the chief for any misdemeanour (Bourdillon, 1997: 59).

In the Shona tradition, succession is ‘unilineal and collateral with a position inherited only through males and circulates in one generation before passing on to the next’ (Bourdillon, 1976: 124). The succession system of the patrilineal Shona is complex wherein two or more ruling families (houses) take turns to rule (Cheater, 1986: 178). The houses retain the right to appoint a successor and they consider many factors, such as acceptability by the people. The houses are based on the sons of the founding chief. It is common to have some of the houses excluded from office for the ‘offences’ allegedly committed by the ancestors of the houses. Disputes over succession were, and still are, common and the ‘average Chief’s tenure was fairly short, interregna were frequent, and disputes between potential successors were often extended’ (Cheater, 1986: 178). The ancestors, through the spirit mediums, were often involved in confirming the appointment of a chief and the arbitrators in cases of disputes. The arbitrators usually respected community wishes, and a ‘suitable and popular candidate can usually be appointed with popular consent on the grounds of qualities of character associated with chieftainship’ (Bourdillon, 1976: 128).

The Shona chiefs’ area is typically subdivided into wards, headed by a headman (sadunhu). The wards are further subdivided into villages, headed by a village head (sabhuku). The headmen are sometimes related to the chief, but often they are non-relatives, who have been in the area before the establishment of the chiefdom or later arrivals. There was a concept of zunde ra-Mambo (work party). ‘Subjects’ worked in the chief’s fields, and the chief was not required to compensate them ‘although he usually did so by slaughtering a beast and providing a feast’ (Bourdillon, 1976: 133). The harvests from the chief’s field and tributes were also used for social protection of the indigent, particularly the aged, widows and orphans, or those affected by natural calamities. Dare (public court) was presided over by the chief. It was/is a tribal structure and space for the administration of justice and good governance. The dare proceedings could be held for community issues at the village or ward level (Bourdillon, 1976: 147). The chief worked with a council of advisors, who were not from his clan or relatives (Bourdillon, 1976: 123). Any person present at the dare proceedings could contribute to the case before it. ‘[N]o chief could impose his own will on unwilling subjects; if he tried they would simply move elsewhere and the chief would be left without a following’, notes Bourdillon (1976: 132). The chief gave the formal verdict on cases before the court, but, oftentimes, it was a summary of the consensus by those attending the session(s) (Bourdillon, 1997: 61). In the Shona culture, not all disputes were/are referred to the chief for adjudication. Family disputes, for instance, were/are resolved within the family structures.

All ‘subjects’ had free access to the dare. Therefore, they could meaningfully contribute to the governance processes. Traditionally, the Shona are mostly equal before the law and authorities. Besides a few members of the ruling house, no one, including the chief’s relatives, receive(d) or expect(ed) special treatment in their daily lives (Bourdillon, 1976: 123). The justice system was conciliatory and restorative, as opposed to the repressive and retributive colonial system, as the article shows. There was little room for the chiefs to become tyrannical since they were required to be ‘father figures’ to their ‘subjects’. They also needed protection against rivals from their ‘subjects’. In the modern state, governments provide such protection and allow chiefs to exercise more control on their ‘subjects’ (Bourdillon, 1976).

The Shona regard(ed) land as being more than property. It was/is sacrosanct and deeply linked to the chieftainship and ancestral spirits. Therefore, ‘loyalty to the Chief and respect due to him are [were] connected with his sovereignty over the land’ (Bourdillon, 1976: 85). Only the chief could permit strangers to settle in his community and cultivate the land (Bourdillon, 1976: 86). The land/settlement rights granted to a newcomer were inalienable as long as the new entrant remained compliant with the local rules and customs. As elsewhere in pre-colonial Africa, the quality of governance by the Shona chiefs varied (Jingoes, 1975: 171). Colonial rule and land expropriation gravely undermined the authority of Shona chiefs.

Traditional leaders in colonial Zimbabwe

The colonial government required all chiefs to register with the Native Commissioners. Some refused, while others who were not traditionally recognised as chiefs seized the opportunity and registered themselves. Henceforth, they were recognised by the colonial state as chiefs (Weinrich, 1971). In 1962, Native Commissioners became District Commissioners (DCs). ‘District’ replaced ‘Native’, a word considered offensive by Africans (Mlambo, 1972: 44). From 1980 until 2018, the DCs were known as District Administrators (DAs). Since 2018, they became District Development Coordinators (DDCs). The colonial state ‘bureaucratised’ the chieftaincy, which it considered inferior. The ideal bureaucracy is merit-based, efficient, hierarchical and enjoys unity of command (Farazmand, 2010: 245; Peters, 2010: 209–210). The colonial state, however, largely relied on political clientelism to coax chiefs. Farazmand (2010: 247) argues that in reality bureaucracies are more ‘patronage based’ than meritocratic.

The resistance to colonialism resulted in the colonial state punishing the ‘disagreeable’ chiefs and rewarding the ‘agreeable’ ones. The chiefs that actively opposed colonialism were reduced in status and, in some cases, de-recognised and denied the government stipend. Native Commissioners (later DCs) superintended over traditional leaders and recommended their appointment and de-recognition. They tried to preserve local traditions, but their influence and preferences were always apparent and paramount. For example, in Bukalanga area, a Kalanga chief called Gambo, who had collaborated with the Whites during the 1896–1897 war of resistance against colonial occupation, was promoted to ‘become head chief of the district’ (Msindo, 2012: 72). The colonial state had established complex political clientelism, ‘a system of patron-broker-client ties’ (Kettering, 1988: 419), within a legal dual system.

Whenever a chief’s land was expropriated by the colonial government, he would be settled under a different chief. The chief who received him acted as a paramount chief to the new settler(s) (Bourdillon, 1976: 124). During the British South Africa Company (BSAC) rule (1890–1923), chiefs ‘lost power and prestige and were effectively replaced by European bureaucrats and ordered to serve them as constables’ (Weinrich, 1971: 11). During the Second World War, some chiefs were deposed for ‘misconduct’ after failing to provide men for the war efforts, as requested (Weinrich, 1971: 13). In 1951, major reforms on the chieftaincy were undertaken. Thus, ‘of the 323 Chiefs who had registered in 1914, 89 were abolished, 11 were pensioned off, and 37 lost rank altogether’ (Weinrich, 1971: 13). Using political clientelism, the colonial state countered the rise in African nationalism by raising the status of chiefs. This included the establishment of the Provincial Assemblies of Chiefs (Weinrich, 1971: 14). During the negotiations for Zimbabwe’s exit from the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland (1953–1963), the state also presented chiefs as the true representatives of the disenfranchised Africans. Out of its selfish interests, it recognised their role in a legal dual system (Holzinger et al., 2016: 469; Tieleman and Uitermark, 2019: 709). In 1965, the Rhodesian government declared the Unilateral Declaration of Independence (UDI), which restored some chiefs’ roles. This gradually moved chiefs from patriarchy to bureaucracy. Consequently, they lost legitimacy among their ‘subjects’ (Weinrich, 1971: 1).

The Rhodesian state also used the ‘divide and rule’ policy that placed traditional leaders in ‘intercalary position as the highest-ranking representatives of their people in the traditional system, and the lowest-ranking representatives of the new administration system’ (Cheater, 1986: 179). The chiefs negotiated that intricate position by attempting to be ‘modernisers’ by pleasing the colonisers and concurrently remaining ‘traditionalists’ to meet their people’s expectations. They failed on both, and this consequently weakened their position (Msindo, 2012: 65; Weinrich, 1971: 55). Succession and validation of chiefs shifted from the people and ancestors to external institutions, particularly the Native Commissioners/DCs (Cheater, 1986: 179). Although the DC could not overtly subvert the traditional selection process, the incumbent typically influenced the choice in favour of the ‘younger and better educated from among the claimants, rather than those with the strongest genealogical entitlements to the position’ (Cheater, 1986: 179). Since the colonial era, successive governments have the right to veto any claimant to the chiefly throne in favour of an ‘agreeable’ candidate (Bourdillon, 1976: 139). Bureaucracies rely on formal education (Meier, 1997: 195) unlike chieftainship.

In colonial Zimbabwe, the Native Commissioners/DCs had the final authority on the appointment of traditional leaders. In 1946, the Chief Native Commissioner’s Report stated that the colonial government’s ‘aim [was] to eliminate many of the old diehards and replace them in time by fewer and better Chiefs’ (Weinrich, 1971: 11). The rise of African nationalism also marked a contest for the chiefs’ support between the nationalists and the colonial state. The latter won after increasing the chiefs’ salaries and allowances, and establishing the Chiefs’ Council in 1962. The state also amended the African Affairs Act to remove a section which referred to the chiefs as ‘constables’ (Weinrich, 1971: 18). The chiefs also had some judicial functions restored. The 1969 constitution granted them representations in parliament and senate, ‘changing them from leaders of rebellions at the end of the nineteenth century to parliamentarian in a racially composite society’ (Weinrich, 1971: 22).

Following the UDI, the racist Rhodesian government was sanctioned by the United Nations. It quickly found local allies in the form of chiefs, whom it propelled to prominence. Thereafter, most chiefs supported it, but became increasingly alienated from the nationalists and their ‘subjects’. The chiefs’ support of the racist state was likely coerced since it had the power to depose any chief that exhibited sympathies towards nationalist ideas (Weinrich, 1971: 62). Political clientelism was also at play since the chiefs benefitted from the relationship (Nkomo, 2020: 152–170). The Rhodesian state had enlisted them ‘as buffers against radical African nationalism’ (Nkomo, 2021: 49–50). Generally, chiefs have become ‘victims of the perceived “sellout” roles some of them played during liberation politics’ (Nkomo, 2021: 49).

Under colonial rule, ‘the Chief’s role changed from that of father to administrator and in that process, the essence of chieftainship – a chief is a chief by the people – was lost’ (Jingoes, 1975: 171). Traditionally, chiefs were fed by their ‘subjects’, who gave tributes and services. But under colonial rule, they received government salaries (Bourdillon, 1976: 85; Jingoes, 1975: 173). ‘[W]hen tribute and privileges were replaced by taxes and salaries, the older structures gave way to bureaucracies’, argues Weinrich (1971: 3). However, the ideal Weberian bureaucracy does not exist (Farazmand, 2010: 246). In colonial Zimbabwe, people complained ‘that the loyalty of their chiefs has been diverted away from their people towards their source of income’ (Bourdillon, 1976: 135) and characterised them as ‘government stooges’ (Weinrich, 1971: 55). The introduction of the capitalist economy led to the chiefs’ role as rain makers and purveyors of land fertility diminishing (Bourdillon, 1997: 63). Colonial land alienation also led to the chiefs’ powers diminishing. It became difficult for the chief to accommodate people from outside his area. The state also controlled and limited the inter-district movement of people. The traditional option of responding to unjust chiefs by way of voluntary exit was largely foreclosed. Thus, disgruntled persons found it harder to leave.

Traditional leaders in post-independence Zimbabwe

At independence, the Zimbabwe state largely side-lined chiefs and favoured bureaucrats and modern institutions. However, they remained the custodians of culture, and retained their salaries and allowances. Primary courts took over judicial matters. The Ward Development Committees (WADCOs) took over the land administration functions. However, the state was unable to provide essential services at the local level in a manner and speed acceptable to the communities. Some argue that ‘State’s weakness in the rural hinterlands allows chiefs to take up the role of power brokers’ (Tieleman and Uitermark, 2019: 709). This seems to have been the case in Zimbabwe at independence, which was won following a protracted liberation struggle. Thus, in practice, the chieftainship in Zimbabwe remained a useful institution that continued to dispense justice over minor issues and grant consent to all practices over land (Chigwata, 2016; Mkodzongi, 2016). Even before being constitutionally bestowed with such powers, the chiefs in Zimbabwe, as in the legal dual state of Malawi, represented ‘state-endorsed fused power in combining executive, legislative and judicial functions at the local level’ (Eggen, 2011: 314). Bureaucracy is fairly a good system, but ‘an effective democracy may require an effective and well-functioning bureaucracy’ (Peters, 2010: 210).

Following Zimbabwe’s independence, African Councils were amalgamated into District Councils. Only a few representatives of the chiefs were members. Using acts of political clientelism (Mwonzora, 2023: 292), traditional leaders and ZANU-PF officials at that level were given priority for election to positions in the new sub-national level development structures of the WADCOs and Village Development Committees (VIDCOs) (Cheater, 1986: 178). This brought the chiefs under the watchful eye of the ZANU-PF. In 2000, under siege from the rapidly declining economy and a formidable opposition, led by the Movement for Democratic Change, the government gradually forged alliance with traditional leaders. Since then, traditional leaders have increasingly regained some of their judicial, land allocation, and management functions (Nkomo, 2020: 158–175). During the ZANU-PF’s sanctioned Fast-Track Land Reform Programme (FTLRP) in 2000, chiefs and war veterans became its key drivers. The FTLRP ‘allowed local chiefs to deploy ancestral autochthony as a way of contesting state hegemony over the countryside’ (Mkodzongi, 2016: 99). Rewarding their loyalty, the 2013 constitution of Zimbabwe recognises traditional leaders. It

recognises the institution, status and role of traditional leaders under customary law and that traditional leaders are responsible for performing the cultural, customary and traditional functions of a Chief, headperson or village head, as the case may be, for his or her community. (Republic of Zimbabwe, 2013: chapter 15, section 80)

Traditional leaders also enjoy the constitutional privileges of guaranteed perpetuity, subject to some restrictions, as per section 281 (2) of the constitution:

traditional leaders must not: (a) be members of any political party or any way participate in partisan politics; (b) act in a partisan manner; (c) further the interests of any political party or course; or (d) violate the fundamental rights and freedoms of any person. (Republic of Zimbabwe, 2013)

The Traditional Leaders Act of 2000 at section 45 also proscribes the participation of traditional leaders in partisan politics (Republic of Zimbabwe, 2000). In practice, however, wittingly or unwittingly, traditional leaders violate the provisions of the constitution and the Traditional Leaders Act by publicly supporting and endorsing ZANU-PF, especially during the general elections. The ZANU-PF leadership publicly endorses this. Thus, Zimbabwe ‘provides an ideal case for an exploration of the involvement of traditional leaders in the electioneering and voting processes against the dictates of democratic politics’ (Mwonzora, 2023: 290). In 2018, for instance, a non-governmental organisation, the Electoral Resource Centre, secured a High Court order prohibiting the president of the Council of Chiefs from publicly supporting ZANU-PF. The order has been violated consistently. In March 2023, at a chiefs’ conference, the chiefs’ president defiantly repeated his public support for the ZANU-PF (Dube, 2023). At the same conference, President Emerson Mnangagwa told the gathered 500 headmen and 290 chiefs that: ‘You have to defend the identity and the respect of the African person by voting for the only revolutionary party in this country, Zanu PF’ (Dube, 2023). The defiant acts of the leader of the Council of Chiefs and ZANU-PF politicians are interspaced with occasional claims to the adherence to the rule of law and neutrality of traditional leaders on matters of national and local politics. The partisan nature of traditional leaders has alienated them from some of their ‘subjects’ (Nkomo, 2020: 157). In summation,

Political clientelism [. . .], may be viewed as a more or less personalised, affective, and reciprocal relationship between actors, or sets of actors, commanding unequal resources and involving mutually beneficial transactions that have political ramifications beyond the immediate sphere of dyadic relationships. (Lemarchand and Legg, 1972: 151–152)

Pre-colonial traditional leadership institutions in Botswana

The San are the first inhabitants of present-day Botswana. The Bantu groups arrived later. They dispossessed and displaced the San. The article focuses on the Tswana-speaking groups, who constitute 79% of Botswana’s population. Before Britain declared Botswana a protectorate in 1885, the Tswana-speaking groups were independent chiefdoms ruled by their respective dikgosi (chiefs). Dikgosi owed allegiance to no other superior authority (Morapedi, 2005). Bogosi (chieftainship) was integral to the Tswana tribal life (Schapera, 1938). In fact, ‘The Chief, as a head of the tribe, occupies a position of unique privilege and authority. He is a symbol of tribal unity, the central figure around which the tribal life revolves’ (Schapera, 1938: 62). He headed the tribal army, organised, and sometimes led military expeditions. The kgosi (chief) performed war magic for the success of his army and was also the chief rainmaker, moroka. The separation of powers was thin. For instance, the kgosi ‘could make laws and see their implementation within his area of jurisdiction’ (Ifezue, 2015: 274). The kgosi was ‘at once ruler, judge, maker and guardian of the law, repository of wealth, dispenser of gifts, leader in war, priest and magician of the people’ (Schapera, 1938: 62).

Succession was hereditary, but patrilineal. It passed from the father (kgosi) to his eldest son. This differs with the Shona, as discussed. As with the Shona, no woman could become a kgosi. A kgosi was born, and ‘never selected’ (Schapera, 1938: 42). When the eldest son (the heir) was too young to take over, the eldest surviving brother to his father (rrangwane) assumed the throne as a regent (motshwarelela kgosi). When the heir became ready to assume the throne, the regent handed over. In some cases, however, regents refused to hand over leading to royal disputes, tribal feuds and splits, and even assassinations. The kgosi’s installation was done publicly at the kgotla by bo-rrangwane, who dressed him in a leopard skin (Schapera, 1938: 62).

Despite the powers and privileges that the kgosi had, he still had the duty and obligation to ensure that his ‘subjects’ were protected and taken care of during distressful times. He re-distributed cattle (dikgomo tsa mafisa) to the needy. As with the Shona chiefs, the kgosi owned masotla (chief’s fields), which were cultivated by the morafe. The harvest was stored and (re)distributed during distressful times. The kgosi was expected to reciprocate the honour and privileges granted him by being generous, tolerant, considerate and fair to all (Schapera, 1938). There is a Setswana saying that ‘kgosi thothobolo e olela matlakala’ (a kgosi leads people of different characteristics). He was not supposed/expected to be despotic. A council of advisors, comprising mainly senior relatives from the royal house, such as bo-rrangwane, advised and counselled the kgosi. They were the checks and balances on his powers.

The kgosi was expected to cooperate with his ‘subjects’ and advisors (Morapedi, 2005, 2010; Schapera, 1938). Disregarding this led to tribal feuds, splits and assassinations. The Setswana saying, ‘Kgosi ke Kgosi ka Morafe (A chief is a chief by grace of his tribe)’ (Schapera, 1938: 84) was cautionary. The kgotla meetings also kept the kgosi accountable to his ‘subjects’, just as the Shona’s dare. The kgotla meetings were attended by all men of age, not the youth, women, and serfs. The meetings deliberated freely on issues of morafe’s (tribe’s) or public interests. The proceedings were guided by the Setswana saying: ‘mafoko a kgotla a mantle otlhe’ (all words/opinions expressed at the kgotla are welcome). However, oftentimes, the resolutions ‘rubber stamped’ the kgosi’s and his inner circle’s position. In principle, the kgotla proceedings influenced the kgosi’s decisions.

The kgosi was the custodian of land on behalf of his ‘subjects’. He was not the absolute owner (Manatsha, 2020: 117–119, 2024: 7–8). The kgosi’s privileged position led his ‘subjects’ to often remark that ‘the land belongs to the chief’, and he would also proclaim that the land was ‘his’ (Schapera, 1943: 40–42). His authority over land included its allocation, distribution, regulation of its use and disputes resolution. The kgosi had no power to alienate land to ‘non-tribesmen without the consent of his people, and he did not have unlimited powers to take back allocated land which was properly used or occupied’ (Ng’ong’ola, 1992: 142). It was only with the consent of his ‘subjects’ that he could accept refugees from other merafe who sought his protection.

Traditional leaders in colonial Botswana

The British were reluctant to commit resources to administer the Bechuanaland Protectorate (Botswana). Instead, they introduced the indirect rule policy. The policy left dikgosi in charge of ‘native’ (African) affairs. This was the genesis of the legal dual system in Botswana (Ifezue, 2015). Legal pluralism ‘overlooked, to a large extent, the complexity of previous legal orders’ (Merry, 1988: 869). The Resident Commissioner was responsible for the daily administration of the protectorate. He reported directly to the High Commissioner based in South Africa. The British introduced and maintained Resident Magistrates (DCs after 1932), border police and skeletal colonial officials. The British incrementally passed proclamations and laws which eroded dikgosi’s powers. Foreign laws conflicted and undermined Tswana laws and customs, causing a dent on bogosi (Lekorwe and Somolekae, 1998; Morapedi, 2005). The British accepted indigenous laws only if these were not ‘repugnant to natural justice, equity, and good conscience’ or ‘inconsistent with any written law’ (Okoth-Ogendo, 1979: 160).

The British had initially undertaken to leave dikgosi to wholly govern their ‘subjects’. But acting under the Foreign Jurisdiction Act of 1890, the British government passed the Order-in-Council of 9 May 1891, which authorised the High Commissioner ‘to legislate for Bechuanaland by Proclamation’ (Ifezue, 2015: 272). The Order-in-Council vested in the High Commissioner ‘all powers and jurisdiction which Her majesty [. . .] had or may have [. . .] subject to such instructions as he may from time to time receive from Her Majesty [. . .]’ (Ifezue, 2015: 272). The High Commissioner was to ‘respect native law and custom’ (Ifezue, 2015: 272). Yet, the same order ‘empowered the High Commissioner on the advice of administration officials, to suspend, fine and dispose uncooperative or troublesome dikgosi’ (Mgadla and Campbell, 1989: 50). This undermined the Tswana customs and laws which regulated bogosi.

The 1891 Order-in-Council was the beginning of dikgosi’s woes. Successive colonial administrators used it as an excuse to interfere in bogosi (Morapedi, 2005: 177–185). For instance, Resident Commissioner Charles Rey passed controversial proclamations which defined ‘the limits to the powers and judicial authority of the [. . .] chiefs’ (Ifezue, 2015: 273). Some vocal dikgosi, such as Tshekedi Khama and Sebele II, challenged the Order-in-Council, arguing that it was an affront and betrayal by the British government (Morapedi, 2005). However, the British saw the new reforms as necessary to modernise and democratise bogosi through legal pluralism. They were less concerned that the imposed foreign laws and indigenous laws ‘embodied very different principles and procedures’ (Merry, 1988: 869).

The colonial administration reduced dikgosi to state functionaries. They mainly became tax collectors. Some dikgosi enforced this new duty with enthusiasm and force. Their ‘subjects’ opposed these taxes (Makgala, 2001). Through clientelism, dikgosi were rewarded with 10% of the total collected tax. Clientelistic acts extend to both positive and negative inducements (Lemarchand and Legg, 1972: 291). Dikgosi benefitted financially, but were also coerced. In 1910, dikgosi lost the power to grant mining concessions ‘without the express permission and approval of the secretary of state’ (Ifezue, 2015: 277). Before 1910, the kgosi, as the custodian of land, consulted his morafe on such issues. Moreover, murder, rape and the cases involving Europeans were removed from customary courts and transferred to the ‘jurisdiction of the European courts’ (Ifezue, 2015: 277). Any kgosi who violated the new laws and orders ‘was penalized accordingly’ (Ifezue, 2015: 277). The kgosi ceased to be the lawmaker, executer and judge. In 1919, the law was changed ‘to allow appeals from dikgotla [public court] to the magistrate’ (Ifezue, 2015: 277). This was meant to ‘democratise’ bogosi. The kgosi could be deposed for failing to execute lawful instructions. As in colonial Zimbabwe, the bureaucratisation of bogosi in colonial Botswana was legalised.

The Native Advisory Council (renamed the African Advisory Council in 1940) was formed in 1920 by the colonial administration. Its membership was mainly dikgosi. It focused on issues such as racial discrimination, agricultural and economic development, and education in the tribal reserves (Manungo, 1999: 24). Tshekedi Khama argued that the Native Advisory Council ‘stripped the chiefs of their constitutional powers, and yet did not possess any legislative powers’ (Ifezue, 2015: 278). Thus, the Legislative Council for the Protectorate was established in 1960 (Manungo, 1999: 24). The representative of dikgosi sat in the Legislative Council.

The colonial administration introduced the Native Administration Proclamation No. 74 of 1934 and the Native Tribunals Proclamation No. 75 of 1934. Charles Rey had ‘attributed the lack of development in Botswana to what he saw as the dictatorial powers of dikgosi [. . . ]’ (Morapedi, 2005: 182), hence the two proclamations. It was argued that the reforms would make the society more democratic by reducing the excess powers of dikgosi and democratising the kgotla (Ifezue, 2015). The Native Administration Proclamation ‘provided for the recognition, approval, dismissal and suspension of dikgosi by the High Commissioner’ (Morapedi, 2005: 182). It also granted him the power ‘to refuse to recognize and approve newly appointed chiefs, despite the support those chiefs might command from their people’ (Morapedi, 2005: 182). This would happen for public good and good governance, it was argued. Disregarding the Tswana customs and laws, these reforms introduced the Native/Tribal Councils to advise dikgosi. These sometimes interfered with dikgosi’s work.

The two proclamations changed bogosi and how dikgosi had been conducting tribal affairs. For instance, the Native Administration Proclamation declared that the successor to the throne be approved and appointed by the morafe at the kgotla. It also demanded ‘that the name of the newly appointed kgosi should be submitted to the Resident Commissioner for consideration’ (Morapedi, 2005: 183). Above all, the High Commissioner had to recognise the new kgosi. This flagrantly flaunted the Tswana laws of succession. It also ‘weakened the position of the chief within the community’ (Lekorwe and Somolekae, 1998: 189). These reforms were meant to subjugate dikgosi and make them functionaries of the colonial state.

Fearing possible civil disobedience, the colonial administration passed other proclamations in 1943 to appease dikgosi. Proclamation No. 32 of 1943 replaced the Native Administration Proclamation. But it still empowered the High Commissioner to recognise, suspend or dismiss any kgosi, whose actions were deemed a ‘threat to good order, public peace and good government’ (Morapedi, 2005: 184). In general, the British were worried that dikgosi could render the indirect rule impractical (Morapedi, 2005: 184). In principle, however, the ‘chiefs were now responsible [and accountable] to the British and not to their subjects’ (Lekorwe and Somolekae, 1998: 189). This obtained in colonial Zimbabwe as well.

Beginning 1963, the Resident Commissioner launched series of discussions with different stakeholders, including dikgosi, on their future role in the envisaged self-government. In October 1963, dikgosi agreed to the formation of the House of Chiefs. Initially, the colonial administration had proposed a ‘Council of Chiefs’. But dikgosi were not happy with the name ‘Council’ as it ‘was identified in their minds with those advisory bodies in which they had functioned earlier; “House” connoted a legislative chamber’ (Proctor, 1968: 63). They had wanted a bicameral legislature where the ‘House of Lords’ and the National Assembly would have equal status. Politicians refused because it ‘would seriously impede the modernisation which was so urgently required’ (Proctor, 1968: 62). The House of Chiefs (Ntlo ya Dikgosi) assumed an advisory role, to date. Dikgosi had preferred ‘a house with law-making authority which would enable them to protect themselves more adequately’ (Proctor, 1968: 63). Dikgosi participated in the making of the national constitution in 1961, 1963, 1965, and 1966.

Traditional leaders in post-independence Botswana

In Botswana, bogosi is regulated by the Bogosi Act (Republic of Botswana, 2008). Unlike in Ghana, Mozambique, Tanzania, and Zimbabwe, Botswana’s post-independence political leaders instantly embraced bogosi. The government of Botswana realised that dikgosi wielded considerable influence and commanded respect in the rural communities. Thus, abolishing bogosi was not in the card. At the same time, the government did not want to grant dikgosi a prominent role in a liberal democracy. Botswana’s second president, Ketumile Masire (1980–1998), reveals that ‘I felt we had to find ways of democratising the society at the local level as well as the national level’ (Masire, 2006: 29). This fits in the theory of bureaucracy, which stresses the rule by elected leadership (Olsen, 2006: 3). Dikgosi were only granted advisory role on cultural and traditional affairs through the Ntlo ya Dikgosi. They also organise and supervise tribal cultural ceremonies (Proctor, 1968). President Masire remarks that

From my experiences in dealing with my chief [Bathoen II], it was not surprising that I was especially concerned about eliminating the autocratic rule of the chiefs without tempering with their ceremonial role. (Masire, 2006: 24)

The modern state uses bureaucracy ‘to curb local feudal powers by centralization of authority through bureaucratization’ (Farazmand, 2010: 246). Despite the misgivings, the government of Botswana was politically strategic, cautious and pragmatic when dealing with dikgosi and bogosi, unlike Zimbabwe. But as in colonial Botswana, the curtailment of dikgosi’s powers was done through legislative and institutional reforms. This was justified on ‘nation-building’ (Ifezue, 2015; Proctor, 1968). Botswana’s first president, Seretse Khama (1966–1980),

was against chieftainship as being divisive, since one was taught that one must lay one’s life down for the chief. ‘Where would be the nation’, he would ask, ‘if the chief is against the principles that favour the nation?’. (Masire, 2006: 49)

At the beginning, dikgosi were against the new reforms. Gradually, they became more accountable to the government than their ‘subjects’. As with the Native Administration Proclamation, the Bogosi Act grants the government the total control of bogosi and dikgosi. The government defines, recognises, appoints, suspends, and deposes a kgosi. The Bogosi Act defines a kgosi as an individual who,

(a) possesses such minimum educational qualifications as may be prescribed from time to time; (b) has been designated as Kgosi under section 6; and (c) is recognised as a Kgosi by the Minister in accordance with the provisions of sections 6 and 21. (Republic of Botswana, 2008: section 4)

The Bogosi Act further stipulates the functions of a kgosi:

(a) to exercise his or her powers under this Act to promote the welfare of the members of his or her tribe;

(b) to carry out any lawful instructions given to him or her by the Minister;

(d) to arrange tribal ceremonies;

(e) to preside over cases in terms of the warrant of his or her court issued under the Customary Courts Act; and

(f) to perform such other functions as may be conferred on him or her by or under this Act or any other enactment. (Republic of Botswana, 2008: section 17, also sections 18-20)

The act empowers the Minister to depose and/or de-recognise a kgosi (Republic of Botswana, 2008: sections 14 and 15). This also obtained in colonial Zimbabwe and Botswana. Arguably, it is to make dikgosi submissive and loyal to the government. Under Tswana customs, being a kgosi is a birth right. No educational qualifications are required. Since dikgosi are now part of the state bureaucracy, formal education is necessary (Meier, 1997: 195). Under the Bogosi Act, one can be born a kgosi, but should satisfy the conditions in the act. A kgosi requires the recognition from and the appointment by the Minister, a politician. The act designates dikgosi as ‘civil servants’ (Republic of Botswana, 2008: section 23 (3)). They receive salaries, allowances and non-monetary benefits determined by the government. They also follow a code of conduct defined by the same. Dikgosi can retire at 50 years of age, but the mandatory retirement age is 80 (Republic of Botswana, 2008: section 23 (1-2)). This is foreign to bogosi. Traditionally, a kgosi does not retire because of age, but if he is incapable to do his work.

Before and during the colonial era, dikgosi led public works. They also kept stray cattle and maintained law and order. These functions were transferred to the local government structures. Dikgosi further lost their power and prestige as democratic structures took centre stage. They, however, became members of the village development committees, district development committees and land boards, among others. In 1968, despite the disapproval from dikgosi, the government introduced the Tribal Land Act. It created the land boards in 1970, which removed dikgosi from tribal land administration. Dikgosi are ceremonial ex-officio members of the land boards and only play an advisory role (Manatsha, 2020, 2024).

The Bogosi Act does not explicitly bar dikgosi who are not members of the Ntlo ya Dikgosi from participating in partisan politics. It is only an established norm, and not law, that they do not partake in politics. The Minister can de-recognise a kgosi if he or she ‘considers it to be in the public interest’ (Republic of Botswana, 2008: section 15 (b)). Procedurally, a kgosi who wants to join politics vacates office. A regent, who has been properly designated by ‘the morafe or the person so recognised as Kgosi, as the case may be’, takes over (Republic of Botswana, 2008: section 7 (1)). The government ensures that the process follows the Bogosi Act, customary law and traditions of the concerned morafe.

The members of the Ntlo ya Dikgosi are constitutionally barred from partaking in politics. But ‘active participation in politics prior to being a Member of the Ntlo ya Dikgosi shall not bar any person from being such a Member’ (Republic of Botswana, 1966: section 79 (4)). One can resign from the Ntlo ya Dikgosi to join politics. The supervision of dikgosi falls under the Minister. The Minister ‘may make regulations’, which may ‘prescribe’ (a) ‘the general conditions of service’; (b) ‘the procedure for taking disciplinary actions against’; and (c) ‘the punishment which may be awarded for breaches of discipline by, persons appointed under this Act’ (Republic of Botswana, 2008: section 28). ‘Subjects’ can also lodge a complaint against their kgosi with the Minister, who may institute an inquiry or direct that it be made. The above shows why dikgosi are more accountable to the government than their ‘subjects’.

Conclusion

The article demonstrates that traditionally, the chieftainship among the Shona and Tswana was participative, reciprocal, and accountable. The ‘subjects’ actively participated in the governance processes and held their leaders accountable. They gave their leaders legitimacy in exchange for the unfettered rights to hold them accountable. The supremacy of the ruled is contained in traditional clichés among the Shona, such as ‘ushe vanhu’ (one is a chief because of ‘his’ people/followers), ‘ushe madzoro’ (chieftaincy is rotational), and the Tswana saying: ‘kgosi ke kgosi ka batho’ (a chief is a chief because of ‘his’ people/followers).

In Zimbabwe, traditional leaders enjoy high level of security. The constitution guarantees them perpetuity. In Botswana, the constitution recognises the Ntlo ya Dikgosi. In both countries, chiefs have access to the superior state’s instruments to enforce their rule in a legal dual system. The chiefs’ position in Zimbabwe and Botswana has changed in four respects. First, the state superintends over chiefs as it holds the power to veto their appointment and can depose them. Consequently, traditional leaders remain beholden to the state and the ruling parties. Second, they compensate for the state’s protection by way of subjugating themselves to its authority. Third, the state also protects the ‘subject’, who can no longer access the traditional methods of coping with autocratic leadership. Fourth, the loss of the rights to administer and allocate land has weakened the chiefs’ link with their ancestors and ‘subjects’. In conclusion, traditional leaders’ continued existence in Zimbabwe and Botswana is due to the bureaucratic system, legal dualism, and political clientelism. The chiefs and their ‘subjects’ coexist within in a democratic space and the rule of law. The chiefs in both countries often complain of state’s subjugation, but this is reciprocal and understandable given the protection and benefits they receive from the state.

Footnotes

Funding

The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship and/or publication of this article.

ORCID iDs

Norbert Musekiwa

Boga Thura Manatsha

Author biographies

Norbert Musekiwa is a Senior Lecturer in Public Administration at the University of Botswana. His research interests are in: roles of traditional authorities in local democracy, state civil society relations, participatory local governance, and public financial management.

Boga Thura Manatsha is a Senior Lecturer in History and the Head of the Department of History at the University of Botswana. His research interests primarily focus on: the land question in Botswana, land policy, politics of land, land conflicts, and traditional authorities and their role in land administration. He has also published on Botswana’s relations with other countries.

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