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Urban
Violence and the Colonial Experience: Bulawayo, Rhodesia, 1893 to
1960
Terence
Ranger
April 14, 2005
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This paper was presented
by Terence Ranger to the African Studies Seminar at the University
of Toronto on Thursday April 14 2005. He gave it as a tribute to
Yvonne Vera, who had died a week before, explaining that the title
of his projected book, Bulawayo Burning was intended to echo Yvonne's
novel Butterfly Burning. She had written that without any research:
he wanted to see what could be produced with a lot of research.
But there was no intention – or possibility – of surpassing Yvonne.
His history would reflect the message of her novel with its mixture
of hope and struggle and tragedy.
Introduction
When I was still
a historian of Britain and Europe in the 1960s - while at the same
time beginning to turn myself into an Africanist - European urban
history was at an exciting stage. It was the heyday of 'the crowd'.
The 'faceless mob' was being giving a face, or rather many faces.
Urban disorder was being given a new rationality. I bought and treasured
and still possess the series of studies by George Rude – The
Crowd in the French Revolution, 1959; The Crowd in History,
1964; Paris and London in the Eighteenth Century, 1970. At
that stage, however, there was in effect no African urban history
– or at least no southern African urban history. In the 1950s and
1960s Southern African cities were the territory of the sociologist.
Things are very different
today. I take a no doubt unfair characterisation of contemporary
European urban studies from a review in The Literary Review
for June 2004. (Jan Ridley reviewing Tristan Hunt, Building Jerusalem.
The Rise and Fall of the Victorian City, p.38):
Recent urban history is
mind-dumbingly dull – at best sterile, technical works on housing
policy or local government, at worst post-modernist discourse on
gobblededook topics such as 'spatial aneurism'.
But if studies of British
and European cities have left riot and protest far behind this has
not been so for Southern African urban studies. In South Africa,
in particular, black nationalist militancy found its expression
through youths making the townships ungovernable. Historians have
studied these upheavals, punctuated as they were by terrible moment
of police repression and so-called 'black-on-black violence'. The
South African Justice and Truth Commission has collected a mass
of evidence about this urban violence.
Further to the north, admittedly,
the liberation war was fought much more in the rural areas. Nevertheless,
settler states designed colonial towns so as to achieve the maximum
separation between rulers and ruled, white and black, 'rich space'
and 'poor space'. Any urban upheaval in such circumstances was bound
to appear 'anti-systemic' and to be interpreted as part of the struggle
against colonial rule or colonial capitalism. Hence the black urban
'crowd' has become the hero of a new historiography; faces have
emerged from within it; reason has been pre-eminently restored to
it. One might well expect a book to be published called The Crowd
in Southern African History.
Much of this new
history has been stimulated by the struggles and eventual triumph
of African nationalism. Hence the urban crowd in Southern Africa
has been often been seen as acting primarily politically.
Iain Edwards, in his study of the Durban Beer-Hall riots of June
1959 – riots in which the crowd was mainly female – describes two
contrasting political interpretations. One was the interpretation
of the apartheid state; the other was the interpretation of the
African nationalist movement. As Edwards remarks, 'remembering the
late 1950s was crucial to both'.
The state 'stressed riotous,
drunken anti-social violence. The riot legitimated repressive measures
against violent insurrectionary crowds and their political leaders.'
For the African National Congress:
the riot was proof that
militant grass-roots political struggles summoned up support for
and radicalised the ANC during its organised mass campaigns of the
period. Cato Manor's women's struggles were heroic; their violent
actions justified, and the riot proof of a united ANC.
In the end, of course, the
ANC triumphed. When the Truth and Reconciliation Commission explored
urban violence it took it for granted that the narratives of the
apartheid state were merely ideological justifications for its crimes.
It also took for granted the ANC's notion that urban crowds were
acting politically and that urban violence was part of a national
protest history. Hugo van der Merwe in his 'National Narrative versus
Local Truths' emphasises that the TRC was primarily concerned with
'national unity'. 'The TRC's formula for uncovering the truth and
making sense of a victim's experience was to contextualise the abuse
within the national political conflict.'
Phil Bonner and Noor Nieftagodien,
analysing the TRC's handling of violence in Kathorus in the East
Rand in the 1990s – violence which included taxi-wars, clashes between
squatters and hostel dwellers, students and youth gangs, the ANC
and Inkatha – stress that the Commission ignored 'any human rights
violations that could not be termed political'. Nevertheless, this
allowed a wide range of violence to be included since 'struggles
simply needed to have taken place within the wider context of political
conflict to qualify as political.'
All these authors, and many
others, are critical of such an overly political approach. Iain
Edwards believes that it 'misrepresents the nature of the [1959]
riot' in Durban; that it is based on a 'simplistic view of crowds'
and 'simplistic notions of relations between political party leaders
and the masses'. In his view, crowds are constantly changing; 'major
struggles are being waged within the crowd'; participants have multiple
social, economic and cultural motives. 'The politicising histories
under which men and women have lived so long need to be re-examined'.
van der Merwe argues that
the TRC's emphasis on 'the national political conflict' failed to
make sense of or to reconcile people to what were primarily local
experiences. The TRC needed 'a much more involved, long-term engagement
with the dynamics of local conflict'.
Bonner and Nieftagodien insist
that 'adequate social explanations' require a recognition that violence
was 'socio-political in character'; that one needs to examine 'social
and economic processes as well as political processes'. Violence,
they say, 'was only secondarily party political'. And if interpreters
insist on a party analysis they reduce participants to 'faceless
and increasingly dehumanised' puppets 'driven by unconstrained visceral
passions'. Bonner and Nieftagodien wish instead to ' insert faces
and motives'.
However, nationalist interpretations
have not been the only way of capturing Southern African urban violence
in the interests of a Grand Narrative. As powerful as the Grand
Narrative of nationalism has been the Grand Narrative of class.
In Southern Africa urban violence has often been explained as the
result of the uneven and contradictory processes of proletarianisation.
In so far as it has been anti-systemic it has been seen as anti-capitalist.
Frederick Cooper's seminal collection, Struggle for the City,
bears the sub-title, Migrant Labor, Capital, and the State in
Urban Africa. In his introduction, 'Urban Space, Industrial
Time and Wage Labor in Africa', Cooper describes a particular 'radical
position' in urban scholarship:
The growth of a working
class in the African city shapes its structure and the conflicts
that occur within it. This process has been seen in rather linear
terms: African workers became
concentrated in key mining
and commercial centers; their experience in the workplace led them
to a greater sense of collective identity and class consciousness;
and they organized to challenge capital and the state.
Such a narrative has been
applied particularly to ports and to railheads, where a large work
force lives actually in the town rather than in mining compounds
outside it and where workers in one town have a ready means of communication
with those in another.
Clearly some part of what
Bonner and Nieftagodien are saying about the overly-political reading
of urban violence by the TRC is that the nationalist and the class
narratives ought at least to be combined. But that is only part
of what they are saying. Taxi wars, urban gangs, 'ethnic' conflict
relate to other dimensions of the Southern African urban experience
which cannot be reduced either to the story of the growth of national
consciousness or to the story of the growth of proletarian consciousness.
In 1983 Cooper noted the need for urban historians to explore the
way in which African townspeople drew upon pre-urban traditions
of association. He also noted the need to explore the struggle over
'ideologically charged' urban space.
In the twenty years since
Struggle for the City points have been emphasised and others
added. As Paul Maylam writes in his introduction to The People's
City: 'almost all the essays in this collection implicitly consider
the organisation and occupation of urban space – living space, cultural
space, political space and space for pursuing material ends.' As
he also notes, the essays show 'a convergence of rural "traditionalism"
and urban popular protest'. Iain Edwards' chapter on the Cato Manor
riots of 1959, from which I have already quoted, insists on the
importance of a gendered approach to urban violence. Paul La Hausse's
chapter portrays 'marginalised peasant, lumpen elements who formed
themselves into amalaita gangs, prostitutes ...
traders in dagga, animal skins and herbs ... and
most importantly beer-brewers'. He emphasises that whites feared
'possible violent outbreaks on the part of these newly urbanised
people'. But urban crime and gangs were not only a product of recent
urbanisation. They remained a characteristic feature of the African
township and a key element in much urban violence.
Paul La Hausse notes at the
beginning of his chapter that it clearly 'betrays its origins' in
the work of E.P.Thompson and George Rude and of the South African
urban historians who drew on them. But 'in its concern with the
question of culture – a rather unpopular field for a number of revisionist
urban social historians in South Africa – this essay represents
a bridge ... between earlier historical work and more recent literature
preoccupied with questions of culture and identity.' Veit Erlmann's
chapter on black popular music in Durban has crossed that bridge.
So too has work on black urban clothes and fashion. In short, there
has developed a Southern African urban cultural history which is
not only about cultural nationalism or proletarian 'culture as resource'
but also about urban style. Struggles over who sets urban style
have also been a cause of violence.
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