Deconstructing The Apartheid City

Published: January 1, 2025

DECONSTRUCTING THE APARTHEID CITY

Franco Frescura

PROLOGUE

The history of this research can be traced back to the mid-1970s when, as a post-graduate student in architecture I became interested in the theories of Arturo Soria y Mata, who postulated that urban growth takes place along existing lines of infrastructure, and Homer Hoyt, who stated that the city’s various activities and income groups tend to congregate into distinct areas. Although these have since been overtaken, at the time they both went a long way towards explaining the infrastuctural growth and land-use patterns of Johannesburg.

The resultant report not only presented a more balanced picture of the historical development of Johannesburg than had hitherto been published, but it also created a model upon which subsequent research could be based. As a result parallel projects have since been run in Port Elizabeth, King William’s Town, Uitenhage, Oudtshoorn, as well as a number of other smaller towns located primarily in the Eastern Cape.

This research also coincided with a time when many academics were beginning to realise that opposition to Apartheid was going to require more than just moral outrage if it was going to be effective. Unfortunately hard information about the physical implications of social engineering was not easy to come by. Municipal and government planners were usually reticent about discussing their work with outsiders in anything other than the most general of terms, and many of the findings included in this paper initially began as unsubstantiated theories derived from field research. Even today, information about military involvement in town planning decisions is still difficult to confirm, not because of the planning decisions that were taken, but because few people today will admit to having sat on a committee whose other functions also included ordering the assassination of anti-Apartheid activists.

INTRODUCTION

It is true that, in many respects, the roots of racial segregation can be traced back to the nineteenth century and the strictures that colonial society imposed upon southern Africa’s urban areas. Case studies in the region seem to indicate that our early suburbs were often integrated to a larger degree than was generally admitted by Apartheid’s historians, and although Black and White were uneasy neighbours, they generally appear to have shared urban facilities with a measure of success. Disputes between the two communities usually arose over the occupation of coveted residential land, an issue which was often linked by whites to the question of public health. Occasionally matters reached a critical point, such as in 1901-1903 when the British importation of fodder from Argentina brought about a nation-wide outbreak of Bubonic Plague. Upon this occasion the authorities unilaterally imposed draconian restrictions upon the Black population, demolished their homes, burned their belongings, and displaced entire communities to sites well beyond the city boundaries. Barring such instances, however, early town planning decisions were generally made by planners on an ad hoc basis, and were largely guided by considerations of economic class.

A major turning point was reached in 1923 when the Union Parliament passed the Natives (Urban Areas) Act, which laid down the principles of residential segregation and reinforced the doctrine that the African population had no permanent rights in the towns. In spite of this, the now “White” suburbs remained racially integrated to varying degrees until 1948 when the Nationalist Party came to power. At that stage the process of separating communities was placed upon an ideological footing, and was given substance by a variety of inter-linking residential, squatting, labour and security legislation. Although, over the years, the dialectic of Apartheid has tended to change, its net effect upon the Black community has involved the dispossession of their homes and land, often with minimal recompense. They have also been denied access to markets, infrastructure and civic amenities, leading to impoverishment and increased economic hardship.

In February 1990 the government began to dismantle the framework of laws upon which the Nationalist’s dream of an Apartheid society was based. Democrats throughout the world applauded this event, but almost immediately workers on the ground began to realise that whilst the legislation might have gone, the inequality generated by generations of statutory discrimination had still to be redressed.

This condition has become most evident in South Africa’s urban areas where residential distributions, land uses, transport routes and statutory curbs on economic development have combined to create cities where economic inequality has become entrenched along racial lines. Planners are not unaware of this debate, but the solutions they are currently proposing vary from a liberal, market-based, long-term integration of the suburbs, through to a highly legislated interventionist policy orchestrated through a central government.

The short-comings of either philosophy are self-evident, and it seems probable that whatever solution is finally adopted, it will have to be reached within a framework which takes full cognisance of all the historical factors involved.

IDENTIFICATION OF THE APARTHEID CITY

Apartheid city planning is marked by a number of features which, read in a historical context, could be interpreted as part of a segregationist residential policy. Taken as a whole, however, they fall into a pattern which reveals a wider ideological intent. These characteristics may be summarised as follows:

a. The Segregation of Residential Areas.

Selected residential suburbs were set aside for the exclusive use of specific communities. This segregation did not only take place along racial lines but, in some cases, was extended to perceived “ethnic” groupings in the Black community itself. As a result certain areas of Soweto, near Johannesburg, were set aside for Nguni, Sotho, Tswana and Venda language groups, and even the Nguni suburbs made allowance for Zulu, Xhosa, Ndebele and Tsonga sub-divisions. In the case of Black/White segregation, this was regulated by legislation which controlled so-called “Group Areas”, miscegenation and intermarriage between the races. On the other hand, the separation of “ethnic groups” was entrusted to White bureaucrats with little knowledge of anthropology, or empathy for indigenous value systems. Separation between White and not-White citizens was strictly enforced, often by brutal police action, whilst little attention appears to have been paid to residential mixing and integration within the not-White group.

b. Use of Buffer Zones.

Group areas were separated by means of buffer zones, which were 100m minimum width, but in some cases, could be as much as 250m. In the case of some smaller municipalities the mandatory existence of buffer zones had a negative effect upon the growth of White residential and business areas, leading these to openly ignore regulations promulgated under an ideology they officially espoused.

c. Use of Natural Features.

In many instances planners were allowed to incorporate natural features, or areas where construction was difficult, into their buffer zones. In Port Elizabeth the Swartkops estuary and its escarpment have been used, and although future local governments may well seek to bridge the gap between Black and White residential areas, the existence of these buffers could well prove insurmountable obstacles.

d. Industrial Belts as Buffer Zones.

Although buffer zones were used to create and reinforce racial segregation, this land was invariably retained under White municipal control and in many cases was developed as industrial townships. Thus although businesses in these areas employed workers from the nearby Black suburbs, their rates and taxes were paid to the White municipality under whose control they fell. The factories were therefore contributing to the tax base of the White municipality, and subsidising its White infrastructure.

e. Extended City Planning.

Black residential suburbs were invariably removed from the CBD, an obvious link with the colonial Segregated City. The distance from the city centre varies from instance to instance. New Brighton, for example, was established during colonial times on land immediately beyond the city boundaries. Soweto, on the other hand, was the product of apartheid planners who originally wished to locate it in the vicinity of Newcastle, in Natal. It was their intention to link it to the Witwatersrand by a high-speed railway system (as yet not invented) which would have covered the distance in under two hours. Although this proposal was successfully blocked by the Johannesburg Council, the location of Soweto was ultimately guided by the establishment of Kliptown and Nancefield in 1904 to the south-west of Johannesburg.

f. Extended Road Links.

One of the most noticeable features of the Apartheid City is the wide spread of its residential suburbs linked by a relatively long travel links. An integrated city on the other hand, would probably have developed along more compact lines.

g. Military Control.

Many Black residential suburbs established during and after the 1950s are also marked by their proximity to military bases and airfields. It is not an accident that the Lenz Military Camp and the Baragwanath Military Airfield are located in close proximity to Soweto.
Similarly many Black towns were planned to facilitate military operations within their streets. This is not a recent paranoia, but dates back to the time when Verwoerd was Minister of Native Affairs. The results are etched in the road plan of Soweto, whose radial streets connect a series of vacant hubs. The theory was that, in times of civil unrest, nests of sub-machine guns could be located on this land, covering the radial roads and enabling troops to isolate trouble spots in a series of pincer movements. Although the student uprising of 1976 exposed the weakness of such thinking, military interference in urban planning has not ceased and up to comparatively recent times plans for new Black residential suburbs had to be scrutinised, and vetted, by the local military.
A military and totalitarian mindset is also revealed by the limited number of access points provided to Black suburbs, to facilitate sealing off an area during times of civil unrest. A major urban centre such as Soweto, with a population of 1.5 million people, can only be accessed by motor vehicles at four points; New Brighton has three.
The planning of radial roadways and the provision of limited access to a residential area was not the invention of the architects of apartheid, but is a salient feature of early mine compound planning. This was pioneered in Kimberley in the 1880s as a measure to prevent the pilfering of diamonds, but it was refined on the Witwatersrand goldfields after the 1900s as a means of controlling the physical movement of workers.

The development of separate residential areas must also be read in the context of prevailing White political philosophy. Nationalist thinking perceived South Africa’s Black citizens to be perpetually rural, and any access they might be accorded to an urban area was only temporary. Their homes were therefore a reflection of such impermanent status, and their suburbs were not permitted to develop features of any permanence. For this reason social amenities were usually neither plentiful nor well equipped.

i. Housing.

Residential stands were kept deliberately small, usually at less than 300mý, whilst the White equivalent was kept at 500-800m. Black housing was small, poorly built, devoid of internal doors, ceilings and internal services. Most housing stock consisted of the state-built NE 51/6, which was less than 50m in area. These were not sold, but were retained in government ownership and rented out. The state also refused to conduct any maintenance upon their properties, and would not allow residents to extend or improve these, even at their own expense. Services were kept to a minimum, with rudimentary roads, water and sewage reticulation, and no provision was made for electricity or telephone services.
Despite the fact that houses were built using a conventional technology, the textures of the townships remained consistent with those of a squatter camp. The housing process included no consultation with client communities, and plans were often designed at a ministerial level by politicians, farmers and lawyers.

THE APARTHEID TAX BASE

Its is probable that, in addition to the above, a number of other characteristics could be assigned to the Apartheid City which do not find direct physical manifestation. Perhaps the most contentious of these centers upon the allegation that apartheid’s planners set out, coldly and deliberately, to beggar their Black co-citizens. This was done in a number of ways:

Since 1913 Parliament has promulgated a succession of legislative measures which have limited land ownership by the Black community, curtailed the extent of its settlement, and removed its existing rights to tenure. This has effectively excluded them from the landed bourgeoisie, and prevented them from accumulating wealth through property investment. In rural areas also, Black farmers were denied access to markets by the development of a transport infrastructure which deliberately avoided those regions better known during Apartheid years as “homelands”.
In the urban areas, no major manufacturing or retail developments were permitted to set roots in the Black suburbs. This created a “company store” relationship between White business and its Black workers, where the latter were expected to earn their wages in the White city, and spend this money in White-owned shops. This created a cash monopoly which decreased levels of community wealth and reduced its potential for generating savings, and therefore investments. What retail shops were permitted to develop in Black suburbs, were officially designated as “Native” or “Bantu” shops, were usually small and sold a small range of staple goods, were owned by outsiders, and were exempted from current labour legislation.
When separate local government structures were established in the Black suburbs during the 1970s, White municipalities were allowed to retain control of the industry and commerce within their boundaries. Thus, despite the fact that their profits were earned from citizens of all races, their rates and taxes continued to be paid into the coffers of White municipalities. In some instances the White municipality retained ownership of service utilities even though these were located in Black areas, and charged their Black counterparts a levy for the continued provision of these services. In this way for many years the Black community was made to subsidise the infrastructure and living standards of its White neighbours.
Because of its extended plan, unnecessarily long transport routes, and duplication of amenities, the Apartheid City has been enormously expensive to service. This financial burden has not been carried by the White taxpayer alone, but it has been the lot of all of this country’s citizens. PUTCO and other transport utility companies were and still are extensively subsidised by public funds.

SOME FUTURE PROJECTIONS

Hendrik Verwoerd, PhD, has been described by a number of historians as the “Architect of Grand Apartheid”, and is credited by his followers to have been a man of great intellect. His successor, Balthazar J Vorster, was an advocate and, reputedly, an astute and capable leader. It must be assumed, therefore, that both men were intelligent enough to project their vision forward to a time when bigotry could no longer form the ideological basis for national government. Grounding their social engineering in theories of crude baasskap, they used the legislative process to make “class” synonymous with “race”. Their measures were sweeping and breathtaking in their intent, covering the full range of social concerns from sex through to labour, from field through to house. Thus apartheid did not become merely the means of plundering the wealth of the country, and of placing it in White, predominantly Afrikaner, hands. It was also a social system which ensured that, once racism had abated, class would replace race as the primary means of social differentiation. Apartheid therefore set out to create in perpetuity a proletariat which, through no coincidence, was also Black.

This has become increasingly obvious since the repeal of the Group Areas Act in 1991, when many workers in the field of planning began to realise that the effects of Apartheid will be with us for many generations to come. This does not refer only to the idiosyncratic road plans, or the physical barriers it placed between communities, but also includes the ghetto textures of Black residential areas. It is not enough to believe that, given enough time and sensible land use de-regulation, these effects will be minimised and even wiped out. Life in a Black suburb differs substantially from that enjoyed in a White area, and few of our Black citizens are currently prepared to enter into exile in their own city. Current experience has also indicated that, despite the removal of Group Areas limitations, most middle and upper income Black families are trapped in their old suburbs through an inability to dispose of their properties without suffering massive financial losses. The plight of lower income Black families is obviously worse.

Therefore, if we are to overcome the after-effects of the incubus we have belaboured under for 54 years, it will be necessary to initiate action of a deliberate and proactive nature to begin the breakdown of its major features. This will undoubtedly require a great deal of courage, as some of the following measures might indicate:

The integration of middle and upper income suburbs, perhaps through a subsidised equalisation of land. This will not only give Black families access to existing White suburbs, but also make existing Black suburbs more attractive to White residents.
The establishment of new low and middle income housing estates in such a manner as to undermine and break down the existing geography of spatial segregation. Notable areas of action in Port Elizabeth might include developments at Driftsands, Fairview and Parsons Vlei.
The change of current national housing policies to include the development of low-rise low-income housing estates.
Changes to current legislation to encourage the building of new rentable housing stock, and the upgrading and maintenance of existing rentable residential buildings.
The restructuring of current land-use policies in existing Black suburbs to facilitate the development of commercial districts, and to allow the growth of a market in land.
The alteration of existing land textures in Black residential areas, through a gradual process of erf consolidation.
Improving working class access to inner city land. This may be done in a number of ways:

 * Improving public transport links between outlying areas and inner cities, possibly through a heavily subsidised light rail system.
 * Creating areas of medium rise living within the inner city, giving a selection of rentable as well as purchasable residential space. In Port Elizabeth this could take place in North and South End, the east end of Walmer and the lower Baakens Valley.
 * Changing the nature of some existing inner city areas, from light industrial and manufacturing to a mixed residential/light industrial use. This will permit shopkeepers and crafters to live above their work premises, subsidising their living standards and encouraging light industrial and manufacturing entrepreneurship.
 * Redeveloping and changing the nature of some areas of existing mixed land usage which are currently suffering from low development and urban blight.

The decentralisation of retail and business functions to the Black suburbs. In some instances this might extend to developing new decentralised urban nodes.
The energetic revitalisation of historical CBD areas, to facilitate development in such areas as tourism, and a supporting social infrastructure.
Most major urban centres in South Africa have run out of industrial land, and new industrial estates will need to be planned and woven into the city fabric.

CONCLUSIONS

It is clear that although the Group Areas Act was repealed in 1991, the component elements of Apartheid planning have been indelibly etched into the urban fabric of our cities. It is probable that their effects will continue to be felt for many years to come, and that their traces may never be entirely expunged from the South African urban fabric.

Changes are not likely to take place through a long-term, liberal, free-market exchange of land, but will probably require a series of stringent land and price controls orchestrated through a city government committed to strong democracy, community empowerment and the generation of wealth. This is not a philosophy likely to find favour with the broad White electorate, nor with White Liberals or the country’s neo-Democrats, all of whom have benefited extensively from the implementation of Apartheid’s economic measures. However the Apartheid City was the creation of a doctrine-driven central government, and was only achieved through the imposition of extreme hardships upon the Black community. These families are now entitled to a form of restitution, and one of the ways in which this could take place is through an improved quality of housing, of life and of economic opportunities.

To use an architectural metaphor, the edifice of apartheid was only made possible by a structure, a scaffolding, of inter-supporting laws and edicts. Once the building was completed and could stand alone and unassisted, the scaffolding could then be dismantled and removed. It is true that, since 2 February 1990, the Nationalist Government has assiduously been removing the legal props to apartheid, but the substantive structure of economic inequality inherited from that system is still very much in place. Its granite face will not be affected by rubber mallets, but will require a demolition tool made of a sterner materials.

However, it is obvious that, despite the onset of a mythical, democratic “neeu Saath Effrika”, planning remains autocratic and “top-down”, with little understanding of the consultative process, or willingness to enter into its labyrinthine inner workings. It is also obvious that the formulation and implementation of new planning policies remains in the hands of the Apartheid bureaucrats of old. The political leadership might have changed, but the machinery remains the same, and the hands that turn it belong to the same people that brought us the Apartheid city. Although the ANC-led government has done much to restructure South African society at a national level, the concept of “local government” remains an oximoron, much like “military intelligence” or “postal delivery”, and until local councillors are made aware of these issues, I personally see little chance of deconstructing the chosen urban habitat of the children of Verwoerd.

POSTSCRIPT

This paper, entitled Deconstructing the Apartheid City, was delivered to a workshop on South African Cities in Transition, held by the HSRC, in Pretoria, on 26 January 2000.

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