coloured community in line with the requirements of the Group Areas Act.
This book demonstrates that in the 1980s Kroonstad’s black residential areas lagged behind other black residential areas across the country when it came to protest politics. This was mainly because in Maokeng and Brentpark, at least until 1989, there were no pressing socioeconomic grievances – these areas were led by, respectively, the town council and management committee which made every effort to meet the residents’ basic service needs without increasing rent (or, at least, by keeping it at an affordable level).
The study that led to this book concentrates on a politically significant area which has received scant scholarly attention. In fact, in their chapter on activists’ networks and political protest in the Free State, historians Chitja Twala and Jeremy Seekings make an important observation: ‘... overall, political struggles in the Free State did not compare with those in many other parts of the country’.2 Perhaps this has discouraged researchers and scholars from undertaking studies in this region. The observation does not, however, imply that there is an absolute absence of work on the Free State, or parts of it. In 1985 the city council commissioned a book to celebrate Kroonstad’s 130 years of existence. The book, a massive 645-page volume, provides useful information about the establishment of Kroonstad, the development of the town and its white residents, and the role of the white city council.3 Until recently it was the only authoritative history of Kroonstad. Apart from alluding to a few incidents such as the role played by the Industrial and Commercial Workers’ Union (ICU) and the boycotts against increased rent in the late 1920s, the book is silent on political activism in the black townships.
Place of Thorns makes a significant contribution to trying to understand black people’s experiences and responses to apartheid from a local perspective. For the historian Noor Nieftagodien, local history is crucial because it elevates black people from being seen only as peripheral actors and it also gives attention to ‘... local leaders of popular movements, teachers, home-owners, former gangsters, and young people, who ... invariably would appear as no more than footnotes in conventional narratives’.4
Patricia Kay’s Notre Dame and Phyllis Ntantala’s A Life’s Mosaic have each dedicated a chapter to the history of Kroonstad. Kay describes the important role played by the Roman Catholic Church in introducing education in the black locations in 1907, and Ntantala sheds light on the daily living conditions of the residents in the old locations in the 1930s and early 1940s, and alludes to the presence of the ICU and African National Congress (ANC).5
Books by Antjie Krog, poet, author and long-time resident of Kroonstad, on the other hand, deal – in some considerable detail – with political events which took place in Maokeng and Brentpark, mainly towards the end of the 1980s and early 1990s. In A Change of Tongue, she recounts the ‘first and only truly inclusive’ march organised from Brentpark to the centre of town to say ‘this is our town too and we demand equal rights here’. For her, even though this march was ruthlessly suppressed by the police it bridged the gap between the residents of Maokeng and Brentpark.6 And in Begging to be Black, Krog narrates a story about the murder of the leader of the Three Million Gang in 1992. The book also provides glimpses of politics in Maokeng in the mid-1980s – for example, Krog alludes to the competing political factions in the township, the Maokeng Democratic Crisis Committee and the Activists’ Forum, and describes how these divided the ‘community’.7
In spite of the valuable contribution these authors and scholars have made through their work, none has attempted to explore protest politics (or lack thereof) in Kroonstad’s black areas in the 1980s. This partially explains the obvious omission in the literature of the crucial role played by the Town Council of Maokeng, especially its chairman Michael Koekoe, in restraining protest politics in Kroonstad.
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Literature on political mobilisation and protest in South Africa is relatively abundant. Some scholars specifically focus on youth, students, labour or the underground. With the notable exception of Jeremy Seekings, scholars have avoided researching the reasons some townships lagged behind in terms of political mobilisation and protest. In his study of Kagiso township on the West Rand, Seekings demonstrated that this township experienced political mobilisation and protest belatedly because ‘political organisation was very weak in Kagiso in 1984–85, and there were no pressing local issues around which mobilisation occurred’.8 In this volume I make the same point, but go further and emphasise the centrality of the role played by the town council and its chairperson (and, to a lesser extent, the management committee in Brentpark).
Post-apartheid South Africa ushered in a resurgence of the study of black politics and protest. Currently scholars’ and authors’ interests have seemingly shifted to autobiographies and biographies – mainly of the leaders of the liberation movements; the role of the ANC’s and Pan Africanist Congress’s (PAC) military wings, Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK) and the Azanian People’s Liberation Army (APLA) respectively, in the struggle for liberation; and, recently, the service delivery protests. In contrast, little attention has been given to the contentious and uneasy relationship between the leadership of the ANC and community-based structures caused by the transition from apartheid to the democratic dispensation.
This book contributes to an understanding of the relationship between the ANC, at both provincial and national levels, and civic associations (or civics) at the local level. It demonstrates that lack of consultation by ANC leaders, who sometimes had little or no understanding of Kroonstad’s local politics, backfired and cost the ANC vital votes during the first democratic local government elections.
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Several considerations motivated the choice of Kroonstad as a case study. Firstly, Kroonstad’s black townships, particularly Maokeng, have a distinctive feature: a relatively permanent African population, and a comparatively small one. In 1988 the population of Maokeng was estimated at about 70 000.9 Eight years later the transitional local council for the Greater Kroonstad Department of Community Services placed the population of this township at 99 585.10
Kroonstad town, unlike other towns, particularly to the east of Johannesburg (known as the East Rand), has never been a mass industrial area agglomerated by diverse ‘manufacturing clusters: metal industry, chemicals and food’. Although Twala and Seekings note that ‘both population and industry are concentrated in the north-west corner, which includes the goldfields around Welkom as well as Sasolburg, Parys and Kroonstad’,11 Kroonstad had far fewer industries, particularly manufacturing industries, than the other towns in that locality. Its economy is largely based on service industries and these, unlike the mining and manufacturing industries, did not attract large numbers of labourers. This partially explains why Kroonstad’s black residential areas did not experience the problem of squatter settlements. Nor did it have hostels accommodating migrant labourers (the hostels which were established in the black old locations to house employees of companies based in Kroonstad were closed after many of those companies left Kroonstad following economic recession in the 1970s). Because of this, and because Maokeng, unlike other townships, was not divided along ethnic lines, it did not experience the ethnically driven political violence that erupted at the beginning of the 1990s.
And finally, because education played a key role in the development of Kroonstad’s black townships, especially the area which later came to be known formally as Maokeng, community matters were always led (or influenced) by the ‘respectables’ or the educated elites – at least until the late 1970s. This helps to explain the constraint on mass political mobilisation, especially violent protests, which became the norm in the township only from the mid-1980s. The ‘respectables’ believed in resolving issues through dialogue.
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Research process
The information for this book was
