Land Affairs

Nyerere, Operation Vijiji and Violent Land Administration

I am always cautious when I write about Tanzania’s first president, Julius Nyerere. When you are dealing with people in the same league as saints - there are people in Tanzania working for Nyerere’s beatification - you better tread carefully. People are feeling strongly about him and you may easily be misunderstood. In that way Nyerere is a bit like Jesus. You are not supposed to criticise him. And, you can find quotes by him to support almost any point of view you can think off.

In this blog post, I do not aim at criticising Nyerere. But I would like to shed some light on an aspect of the big politicians’ oeuvre that most Tanzanians’ prefer to forget: Operation Vijiji. The ambivalence most Tanzanians feel towards this grand project of social engineering of his is reflected - involuntarily - in Professor Issa Shivji’s article The village in Mwalimu Nyerere's thought. In the article from 2009, Shivji manages, on the one hand, to praise the ruling party, the government and Nyerere for the ‘tremendous achievement’ in carrying out villagisation and, on the other, to blame an American, capitalist consultancy firm, MacKinsey, for villagisation’s failure. Tellingly, Shivji prefers discussing the vision behind Operation Vijiji and ignoring its fatal consequences.

Operation Vijiji has received surprisingly little academic attention. I have only found a few academic articles analysing aspects of these villagisation processes of the 1960s and 1970s, and, so far, no larger, authoritative account of the whole period. That is a shame. The project shaped the Tanzanian countryside in unforeseen ways. During my research in the rural areas, I have met people whose houses were burnt and who were forced to move during villagisation. Some people still have ‘sleeping’ claims on the land they, or their parents, lost back then. The effects of Operation Vijiji, in other words, are still felt today.

One of the articles I have come across is Tanzania’s Operation Vijiji and Local Ecological Consciousness by Yusufu Qwaray Lawi, who analyses its implementation in Iraqland in Northern Tanzania. Interestingly, he describes how villagisation met widespread resistance, often based on local knowledge about the ecology of the area. People knew that some places were unfit for settlement. But the bureaucrats did not listen and resorted to the use of force to make people comply. Sometimes people were even told to relocate to sacred places or ancient burial grounds.

A similar scathing critique is delivered by Leander Schneider in Freedom and Unfreedom in Rural Development. He focuses on the role of Nyerere. And whereas there has been a tendency to excuse Nyerere and blame the bureaucrats for the use of force, Schneider is unrelenting. He traces Nyerere as a driving force, increasingly impatient with the peasants’ lack of enthusiasm for his ideas about ‘participatory’ development in the Ujamaa Villages. In 1972-3, apparently, the President gave up voluntarism as a guiding principle when he declared that the stage of explaining and persuading…is really ending everywhere (p. 363). The same year, after a party conference he stated that The issue of living in Ujamaa villages is now an order (p. 371). Nyerere also put immense pressure on the bureaucracy and did not hesitate removing his local representatives, the Regional and Area Commissioners, if they did not deliver on villagisation (p. 367). Nyerere was a paradox, Schneider concludes: …villagisation reveals that the President was central in driving rural development into increasingly coercive directions, which, at other times, he so forcefully spoke out against (p. 347).

There is no doubt that Nyerere made priceless contributions to the peaceful development of Tanzania. People in neighbouring countries envy the Tanzanians for that. I am also convinced that his zeal for improving the livelihoods of the rural poor, who made up the majority of the population, was genuine. To acknowledge the more problematic sides of his presidency, outlined above, does not make Nyerere a less important president. All politicians make mistakes. But it may make him more human.

Photo from http://www.dsctanzania.org/images/Nyerere.jpg

The spirit of Nyerere?

Nyere Park, Dodoma, Tanzania.

I just got home to Dar es Salaam after a couple of days in Dodoma, the political capital of Tanzania. There, I did the mandatory city cruise. In Mwalimu J.K. Nyerere Park I was fascinated by the contradictory symbols, depicted in the photo, which are so typical for Tanzania. To the left, a statue of Nyerere, the president of Tanzania for more than two decades after the independence, and the inventor of African socialism. In the middle, a business college, which, I assume, must have been established after Nyerere retired in 1985. And finally, to the right, there is a billboard advertising the services of one of the main telecommunication companies in Tanzania, using a photo of the very same Nyerere as an eye-catcher.

Today, more than ten years after his death in 1999, Nyerere is still a major figurehead in the country. Even those, whose land and property were nationalised and those whose huts were demolished and burned during the Ujamaa heydays of his reign, see him as the father of the nation. It would, therefore, be an exaggeration to accuse the telecommunication company of violating any intellectual property rights. Nyerere belongs to everybody. In a sense, he has been nationalised too. Still, I can not help wondering whether the use of his photo for such commercial purposes is in the spirit of Nyerere?

A Crash Course in Tanzanian Politics, Please!

Some days, I find reports on my desk which are so thick that I’m about to give up before opening them. In particular, scholars and activists working within the land grab business tend to produce this type of reports. It is as if they believe that the multitude of words, the length of the list of abbreviations, and the sheer number of pages can transmit the sufferings experienced by the local communities, whose land has been illegally acquired by investors or expropriated by the state.

The Tanzanian policy analyst, Chambi Chachage, has produced a couple of this kind of reports. I have had them on my desk for quite a while, wondering if I would ever get to read them. Over the last couple of weeks I did. It turned out to be rewarding and thought provoking reading.

Chachage sets himself the huge task of investigating what has happened to the state farms when privatisation of state assets started in Tanzania in the 1990s. In the report The State of the then NAFCO, NARCO and Absentee Landlords’ Farms/Ranches in Tanzania, co-authored by Richard Mbunda, he provides an overview of the fate of 34  NAFCO (National Agriculture and Food Corporation) farms and 13 NARCO (the National Ranching Corporation) farms, covering almost 550,000 hectares. The other report, Land Acquisition and Accumulation in Tanzania. The Case of Morogoro, Iringa and Pwani Regions, is an in-depth study of farms in selected districts.

The state farms were established in the 1960s and 1970s on land expropriated from large-scale settlers and small-scale farmers and pastoralists alike. Their establishment was part of an attempt to promote state-driven development of the country under the banner of African socialism.

Economically, the NAFCO farms never became viable. No wonder, then, that they were on the list of businesses to get privatised when the era of socialism was over. NARCO, on the other hand, still exists. That, however, has not prevented a number of its farms from being sold also. The outcome is a mixed picture of farms being kept by state authorities and farms sold or leased to private investors.

Some of the investors are foreigners, but land has also been acquired by public-private partnerships involving the Tanzanian state or by Tanzanian investors. One of the former state farms mentioned in Chachage’s reports is Mzeri, which is situated in one of Handeni Districts where I carried out much of my research. There, I was told, the local MP and a former Tanzanian prime minister have acquired large tracts of land.

When reading about these deals I understand Chachage’s indignation. The privatisation path chosen by the decision makers rarely benefits the local communities, whose land was expropriated in the first place. Often people, who have moved into land left vacant by ineffective state farms, are expelled a second time when land is privatised.

Chachage blames the World Bank and other foreign actors for propagating these privatisation policies and rightly so. After having finished reading his reports, however, I am left with a feeling that there is more to it than that. Privatisations can be carried out in different ways. I have the feeling that Tanzanian decision makers have a decisive say over how it is being carried out in Tanzania. Land could, as described by Chachage, be given back to the communities. That rarely happens. The Tanzanian decision makers choose to sell the former state farms to investors. When President Kikwete met local protests in an area which had been privatised he responded: I cannot repossess the farms and give them to you. They have already been divested... Let us stop lamenting and give the investors time to revamp wheat production. You had the opportunity when the farms were still government-owned but you failed to sustain them (Kikwete in Daily News 18 September 2008 according to Chachage).

The debate makes me realise that there is much I do not understand about Tanzanian politics. I do not understand why people keep electing representatives who seem disinterested in safeguarding ordinary people’s rights. Is it because their policies are thought to bring growth and prosperity and benefit the public in the future, as the quote by Kikwete suggests?

There may be good reasons why these policies are pursued. There may also be good reasons for why people keep electing the same representatives. I would be happy to learn more about them.

Ujamaa wrongs; can they be corrected?

I often wonder how this country, Tanzania, would have developed, had it not embarked on the Ujamaa policies in the 1960ies and 1970ies. Today, during a research visit at the District Land and Housing Tribunal in Tanga, it struck me again. When going through land conflict files I came across a land conflict case, which I had heard about the first time in the village in which I am currently working.

One of the parties in the case, a man in his sixties, had lost the family land because of villagisation in the mid-1970ies. Like millions of other Tanzanians he and his family had been ordered to move to the nearest village where schooling and other social services would be available. In that area of Handeni people were forced to move. New land, so they were told, would be provided by the nearby state ranch.

Then came the privatisation policies of the 1980ies and the ranch was sold to investors. Since then our man, whom I interviewed last week, has borrowed land from neighbours and relatives and thereby managed to feed his family. But now competition for land is getting stronger and the time of borrowing seems to be over. He therefore decided, when hearing about a land registration project in the area a couple of years ago, to try to get his family land back. It was still, he told me, unoccupied. But a man cultivating land in the same area had decided to expand his farm and had registered the land in his name a couple of months before.

Now they have taken the dispute to the District Land and Housing Tribunal here in Tanga. Soon the tribunal will decide who owns the land. But it will not be able to correct the wrongs done during Ujamaa.