Trade Unions and Party Politics: Labour Movements in Africa

In much of Africa, people look to trade unions for leadership, especially at
times of economic downturn. Although Africa's wage-workers are relatively

few in comparison to those in the informal economy, their experience
of organisation and mass mobilisation and their position in the modern
economy give them a strategic role in the politics of democratisation and
development.
This volume examines the political role of trade unions in seven African
countries and the various ways in which they seek to influence political
parties and the state. Whereas some, like the Nigeria Labour Congress, push
C
for a political party of their own, others, such as COSATU in South Africa,
M
opt to engage with the power struggles in the ruling party. In Namibia and
Uganda unions have been incorporated by a one-party dominated state
Y
while in Ghana, unions insist on being autonomous. There is also a move
CM
towards autonomy in Senegal, despite the plurality of unions with party
MY
affiliations. In the case of Zimbabwe, unions took the lead in creating an
alternative alliance in opposition to a repressive state. Trade Unions and
Sakhela Buhlungu and Lloyd Sachikonye

Edited by Björn Beckman,
CY
CMY Party Politics provides a finely tuned critique of the impact achieved by
K
these strategies, within the context of both the unique forces shaping them
and the looming shadow of the new global economy.
With contributions by established researchers, all of them engaged scholars
and seasoned labour activists in the countries studied, the volume makes
a major contribution to understanding the dilemmas facing unions in
contemporary Africa. While examining the relationship of trade unions
to party politics, the contributions also provide new insights into the
relationship of trade union action to the politics of national liberation, a
theme that has not received sufficient attention in the existing literature.
ISBN 978-0-7969-2306-6
9 780796 923066 www.hsrcpress.ac.za Edited by Björn Beckman, Sakhela Buhlungu and Lloyd Sachikonye
Free download from www.hsrcpress.ac.za
CM
MY
CY
CMY
Trade Unions.indb 1 12/1/09 9:16:30 AM

ii

Trade Unions & Party Politics Title.pdf 1 2009/11/04 04:02:42 PM
M
Edited by Björn Beckman, Sakhela Buhlungu and Lloyd Sachikonye
Y
CM
MY
CY
CMY
iii

Published by HSRC Press
Private Bag X9182, Cape Town, 8000, South Africa
www.hsrcpress.ac.za
First published 2010
ISBN (soft cover) 978-0-7969-2306-6

ISBN (pdf) 978-0-7969-2307-3
ISBN (e-pub) 978-0-7969-2308-0
© 2010 Human Sciences Research Council
The views expressed in this publication are those of the authors. They do not necessarily reflect
the views or policies of the Human Sciences Research Council (‘the Council’) or indicate that the
Council endorses the views of the authors. In quoting from this publication, readers are advised to
attribute the source of the information to the individual author concerned and not to the Council.
Copyedited by Lee Smith

Typeset by Lou Wrench
Cover by Farm Design
Printed by printer, Cape Town, South Africa
Distributed in Africa by Blue Weaver

Tel: +27 (0) 21 701 4477; Fax: +27 (0) 21 701 7302
www.oneworldbooks.com
Distributed in Europe and the United Kingdom by

Eurospan Distribution Services (EDS)
Tel: +44 (0) 20 7240 0856; Fax: +44 (0) 20 7379 0609
www.eurospanbookstore.com
Distributed in North America by Independent Publishers Group (IPG)

Call toll-free: (800) 888 4741; Fax: +1 (312) 337 5985

Contents
Preface vi
Acronyms and abbreviations ix
1 Introduction: Trade unions and party politics in Africa 1

Björn Beckman and Lloyd Sachikonye
2 Autonomy or political affiliation? Senegalese trade unions
in the face of economic and political reforms 23
Alfred Inis Ndiaye
3 Disengagement from party politics: Achievements and challenges

for the Ghana Trades Union Congress 39
Emmanuel O Akwetey with David Dorkenoo
4 The failure of Nigeria’s Labour Party 59
Björn Beckman and Salihu Lukman
5 Trade unions, liberalisation and politics in Uganda 85
John-Jean Barya
6 The labour movement and democratisation in Zimbabwe 109
Lovemore Matombo and Lloyd M Sachikonye
7 Unions and parties in South Africa: Cosatu and the anc
in the wake of Polokwane 131
Roger Southall and Edward Webster
8 Serving workers or serving the party? Trade unions and
politics in Namibia 167
Herbert Jauch
9 Trade unions and the politics of national liberation in Africa:
An appraisal 191
Sakhela Buhlungu
Contributors 207
Index 208

Preface
this book originates in a conference that was held at the Parktonian

Hotel in Braamfontein, Johannesburg, from 21–22 July 2006, hosted by
the Sociology of Work Unit (swop) at the University of the Witwatersrand.
It preceded the World Congress of Sociology that was organised by the
International Sociological Association (isa) in Durban the subsequent week,
where a meeting of the isa’s Research Committee on the Labour Movement
(rc44) was coordinated by Eddie Webster and Sakhela Buhlungu of swop.
As rc44 is global in its orientation, the idea was to hold a special pre-isa
conference focusing on Africa, the host continent of the World Congress.

The pre-isa conference was a joint undertaking between swop, the Politics
of Development Group, Stockholm University, and the Agrarian and Labour
Studies Department at the Institute of Development Studies (ids), University
of Zimbabwe. It built on a network of labour scholars, including an earlier
workshop in Harare that resulted in a 2001 book on liberalisation and the
restructuring of state–society relations in Africa, edited by Björn Beckman
and Lloyd Sachikonye, as well as a symposium in Harare in July 2002, also
organised by the ids. Trade unionists were invited to the conference and joint
papers by labour scholars and unionists were encouraged, as reflected in
this book. The president of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions (zctu),
Lovemore Matombo, and other leading Zimbabwean unionists contributed
actively. The Congress of South African Trade Unions (cosatu), the leading
trade union centre of the hosting nation, was well represented. One session
was chaired by Zwelinzima Vavi, the cosatu general secretary, and South
African unionists contributed to panels and debates. The Zambia experience,
not covered in this book, was presented by a unionist. The conference also
involved union-based scholars from the African Labour Research Network
that brings together union-linked research outfits, such as South Africa’s
National Labour and Economic Development Institute (naledi), the Labour
Resource and Research Institute of Namibia, the Labour and Economic
vi

Development Research Institute of Zimbabwe, and the research units of
Ghana Trade Union Congress, Zambia Congress of Trade Unions, and
the Nigeria Labour Congress. The director of naledi offered a lead speech
to one session. Although African in focus, the conference contained a
comparative element, taking advantage of the presence of labour scholars
from non-African countries who had come for rc44, including Rob Lambert
and Peter Evans who served as discussants and rapporteurs. A comparative
paper drawing on the Indonesian and South Asian experience by Olle
Törnquist of the University of Oslo was also presented but is not included in
this all-African collection. Funding for the conference was provided by the
Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, a foundation closely associated with the German
Social Democratic Party and specially concerned with the union–party link.
A Swedish research grant (Sida/sarec) allowed African participants to attend
the subsequent Durban isa conference and the meetings of rc44. Both the
conference in Braamfontein and the subsequent rc44 meeting in Durban
were ably coordinated by Anthea Metcalfe on behalf of swop and the three
cooperating institutions.
Although originating in the 2006 Braamfontein conference, the
chapters of this book have been developed further to take account of
subsequent developments. Some are new altogether, including the South
Africa chapter by Roger Southall and Eddie Webster that seeks to make
sense of the Polokwane events. The Zimbabwe situation has continued to
deteriorate and some of the participants in the workshop, including the zctu
president, have been subjected to brutal violence by the henchmen of the
regime. The concluding chapter by Sakhela Buhlungu, one of the editors,
is also a fresh contribution to the debates. We are happy to include Herbert
Jauch’s piece on Namibia, also specifically written for the book. Sadly, the
continued repression of independent unions in Egypt has prevented the
inclusion of a chapter by Rahma Refaat, a scholar–activist from the Centre
for Trade Union and Workers Services, who contributed effectively to the
discussions in Braamfontein and Durban.
vii

We are grateful for the financial support provided by the Faculty of
Humanities at the University of Johannesburg towards the production of
this book.
The book is dedicated to Eddie Webster, a South African labour
scholar, who has been instrumental in advancing the field of labour studies
globally, and whose achievements were celebrated in Johannesburg in June
2009 to mark the occasion of his official retirement from the Department of
Sociology of the University of the Witwatersrand. We wish him a continued
productive life!
viii

Acronyms and abbreviations
AATUF All Africa Trade Union Federation

AFL–CIO American Federation of Labour–Congress of Industrial
Organisations
AGOA African Growth and Opportunity Act
ANC African National Congress
AOF Afrique Occidentale Française (French West Africa)
BEE black economic empowerment
CNTS Confédération Nationale des Travailleurs du Sénégal
COFTU Central Organisation of Free Trade Unions (Uganda)

cosatu Congress of South African Trade Unions
CPP Convention People’s Party (Ghana)
CSA Confédération des Syndicats Autonomes
EPA Economic Partnership Agreement
EPZ Export Processing Zone Act (Namibia)
ESAP economic structural adjustment programme
EU European Union
FC Forces du Changement
FOSATU Federation of South African Trade Unions
FUE Federation of Uganda Employers
FUTU Federation of Uganda Trade Unions
GEAR Growth, Employment and Reconstruction
GTUC Ghana Trade Union Congress
ICFTU International Confederation of Free Trade Unions
IDS Institute of Development Studies (University of Zimbabwe)
ILO International Labour Organisation
IMF International Monetary Fund
INEC Independent National Electoral Commission
ISA International Sociological Association
LRA Labour Relations Act
ix

MDC Movement for Democratic Change (Zimbabwe)
MP Member of Parliament
MWT Marxist Worker Tendency
NACTU National Council of Trade Unions
NALEDI National Labour and Economic Development Institute
(South Africa)
NCA National Constitutional Assembly (Zimbabwe)
NEC National Executive Committee
NEDLAC National Economic Development and Labour Council
NGO non-governmental organisation
NLC Nigeria Labour Congress
NLC National Liberation Council (Ghana)

NOTU National Organisation of Trade Unions (Uganda)
NRA National Resistance Army (Uganda)
NRM National Resistance Movement (Uganda)
NRM–O National Resistance Movement–Organisation (Uganda)
NSSF National Social Security Fund (Uganda)
NUBIFIE National Union of Banks, Insurance and Financial Institutions
Employees (Nigeria)
NULGE National Union of Local Government Employees (Nigeria)
NUNW National Union of Namibian Workers
OPO Ovamboland People’s Organisation
PDS Parti Démocratique Sénégalais
POSA Public Order and Security Act (Zimbabwe)
PS Parti Socialiste (Socialist Party, Senegal)
RC44 Research Committee on the Labour Movement (of the isa)
SACOTU South African Confederation of Trade Unions
sacp South African Communist Party
SACTU South African Congress of Trade Unions
SAP structural adjustment programme
SDF Social Democratic Front (Ghana)
SONATEL Société Nationale des Télécommunications du Sénégal

SUDES Syndicat Unique et Démocratique des Enseignants du Sénégal
SWAPO South West Africa People’s Organisation
SWOP Sociology of Work Unit (University of the Witwatersrand)
TUC Trades Union Congress (Ghana)
TUC Trade Union Congress (Britain)
TUCNA Trade Union Congress of Namibia
UCC University of Cape Coast (Ghana)
UK United Kingdom
ULC Uganda Labour Congress
UNSAS Union Nationale des Syndicats Autonomes du Sénégal
UPC Uganda Peoples’ Congress
USA United States of America

UTGLAWU Uganda Textile, Garments, Leather and Allied Workers’ Union
UTUC Uganda Trade Unions’ Congress
ZANU-PF Zimbabwe African National Union-Patriotic Front
ZCTU Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions
ZFTU Zimbabwe Federation of Trade unions
xi


1
Introduction: Trade unions and party politics in Africa
Björn Beckman and Lloyd Sachikonye
Labour movements and political parties
Are trade unions capable of enhancing their political influence through

engaging with political parties while simultaneously protecting their

autonomy? Do they use political parties to transform society or are they part
of the status quo? Are they primarily concerned with protecting the special
interests of a small and dwindling wage-earner population or are they voicing
the grievances of a wider popular constituency? These are the core questions
addressed in this volume about the politics of Africa’s labour movements.
The volume looks specifically at the way in which trade unions engage with
political parties either by being part of them, taking a lead in their formation,
or refusing to join party politics altogether. There is a strong tradition
globally of close union–party relations. In Europe in particular, trade unions
have played a crucial role in the formation of social democratic or labour
parties. Here there is a prevailing notion of the ‘labour movement’ being
composed of two wings, a union wing and a party wing. Unionists are often
recruited into leading party positions and unions play a key role in funding
‘their’ parties. They are also occasionally, as in the British case, granted
bulk voting rights in party congresses. In a number of European countries,
especially in the northern parts, social democratic or labour parties have
played a dominant role on the political scene, as a governing party, a part of
a governing coalition, or as the mainstay of the political opposition. There is
a built-in conf lict between being part of a government, actual or prospective,
and negotiating a collective agreement on behalf of your members. Union

leaders are often accused of betraying their immediate constituency either by
supporting the policies of their immediate party allies or in order to ensure
privileged access to political power for the leadership itself. The emergence of
communist parties after the First World War was linked to political divisions
within the labour movements over the wider societal role of labour and, in
particular, over a ‘revolutionary’ or ‘reformist’ road to political power. Where
communist parties became ruling parties in a one-party context, as in the
Soviet Union and its allies, trade unions lost much of their independent clout
although they often retained privileged access to government and welfare
benefits. In much of Latin America and in Asia, the strong links between
trade unions and political parties were reproduced along similar lines to
those in Europe. However, unions have occasionally been fragmented on

party lines, as in India where each political party, including the Hindu
nationalists, operates their own unions. This is similar to the situation
reported in the Senegalese case in Chapter 2. The colonial experience has left
its mark on the union–party relation with trade unions playing an important
role in liberation movements, often being incorporated into a dominant
political party that claimed to represent the emerging nation. This, we shall
see, is central to the African historical experience.
Labour movements are politically contested, both by those who
identify themselves as labour and by those who are part of a different camp,
either as employers or as governments that seek to ensure modes of control
and regulation in line with strategies of their own. Central to the labour
movements, however, is the notion of a common interest as determined by
the position of labour in production. In both the social democratic and the
communist traditions, there is the notion of a conflict between labour and
capital, between employees and employers, although obscured in the case
of ruling parties and collective forms of ownership. In the post-colonial
situation, the conf lict is often suppressed with reference to wider notions of
national liberation and national development. How do contemporary African
2 TRADE UNIONS AND PARTY POLITICS

trade unions strike the balance between such wider commitments and collec-
tive bargaining on behalf of workers in individual workplaces? How do their
ties to political parties affect this balance?
Unions engage in politics most directly by intervening in the political
processes and institutions that regulate and control labour relations and the
price of labour, that is, labour legislation, labour courts, and government
labour departments with their officials engaged in monitoring the system.
To what extent do they depend on links to political parties in advancing
their position in the workplace? Governments and political parties differ in
their views of these things and workers therefore get involved in politics in
order to ensure labour-friendly outcomes. But how can workplace matters
and issues of wider national development be separated? Conditions of work

are fundamentally affected by the regular supply of reasonably priced water,
energy, transport and communication, and other factors that are essential for
production and employment. Unions therefore also engage themselves politi-
cally in order to inf luence conditions of production in the interests of their
members. Similarly, the value of wages depends on developments outside
the workplace, on consumer prices, the costs of housing and producing a
family, the services needed to ensure the health and education of workers’
dependents, and the care offered for the elderly, disabled and unemployed.
This, too, becomes an area where unions are under pressure from their
members to inf luence politics. Political parties and political actors are differ-
ently committed in this respect, thus affecting the allegiances of unions
and workers. Programmatic differences of ideology and macroeconomic
policy contribute importantly to unions’ political identifications. Apart from
causing unions to engage politically at the local level, these differences also
bring them into confrontation with international financial institutions and
development agencies that have their own agenda and views of an appro-
priate policy framework. Unions are commonly seen as a stumbling block to
international strategies of privatisation and neo-liberal reforms of trade and
property rights.
Introduction: Trade unions and party politics in Africa 3

However, international institutions, the International Labour
Organisation (ilo) in particular, take an active part in producing norms that
commit governments to certain standards of labour rights. Over the years,
unions in Africa have appealed to the conventions produced by the ilo, often
ratified by African governments, in order to uphold their right to organise in
the face of repressive governments. The ilo is a tripartite body that involves
governments, employers and employees alike. What collective stake do
they have in advancing labour rights? Does it suggest that a union-based
labour regime is part and parcel of an international agenda? Trade unions
in economically advanced countries often immerse themselves in support of
unions in post-colonial societies. Trade union rivalries at the international
level tend to reproduce themselves at the level of national trade union

politics. Party–union links were central to such foreign involvement, espe-
cially at the time of the great power rivalries of the Cold War. The political
autonomy of trade unions was emphasised by one side at a time when the
other side pushed for their incorporation in the revolutionary strategy
pursued by the party. Although Cold War trade union politics disintegrated
with the collapse of the Soviet Union, union–party links inherited from that
period have continued relevance. This is demonstrated, for instance, in the
cooperation between the Congress of South African Trade Unions (cosatu)
and the South African Communist Party (sacp) over issues of succession and
policy orientation in the African National Congress (anc) (see Chapter 7).
Labour relations in individual countries are affected by international union
solidarity where external bodies carry with them their own notions of union–
party relations. The workshop that preceded this volume, for instance, was
supported by the Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, a foundation closely associated
with the German Social Democratic Party.

The African experience
Historically, African trade unions have been active in broad popular

struggles for independence and liberation (Freund 1988). They have often
been central in resistance to authoritarianism, fascism and dictatorship
(Kraus 2007). This meant extending their concerns and mandate beyond
workplace issues and labour-related matters. It required their engagement in
wider social and political alliances, both with similar-minded groups in civil
society and with political parties whose programmes reflected the concerns
and interests of the workers. While seeking to enhance the entitlements
of workers, African labour movements have demanded social spending
on a political platform. To this end, the movements have sought to build a

‘rights-based agenda for development’, making civil and political liberties
accessible to a broad spectrum of the polity (Jose 2002: 14). Experiences
from elsewhere suggest that civil and political liberties are essential precon-
ditions for converting the economic interests of workers into rights and
entitlements. Unions have allied themselves to groups and movements that
share their values and concerns. This has enabled the labour movements to
reach out to a larger population than those directly engaged in wage work,
so enhancing their legitimacy and promoting their views on development,
equity and justice. This is the case with their role in nationalist and libera-
tion movements. For this purpose, they have also developed relationships
with political parties, sometimes participating directly in governing parties
and alliances. In some instances, the unions themselves have provided the
core of the political opposition, as in the case of Zimbabwe, discussed in
Chapter 6. More commonly in the African context, unions have stayed out
of government, in some cases developing a platform for ‘social dialogue’
which allows them to have input into the policy process. In other cases the
relationship to the government has been based on mistrust and confronta-
tion, as in the Zambian case where unions were instrumental in the alliance
that facilitated the post-Kaunda transition but failed, despite their success
at the polls, to ensure any significant influence in government, let alone

succeed in reforming the labour regime (Akwetey 2001). In Ghana, unions
have deliberately decided to stay out of party politics, largely in an attempt to
avoid being roped in by either side in what has turned out to be a two-party
contest. While strengthening their political autonomy, just as in the Zambian
case, the Ghanaian unions have failed to ensure much influence on the state
(Akwetey 2001).
In the post-colonial situation, African unions were directly affected
by the policies of the Bretton Wood institutions – the International Monetary
Fund and the World Bank. Their resistance to the structural adjustment
programmes (saps) promoted by these institutions and by foreign donors
was central to union experiences (Beckman & Sachikonye 2001; Sibanda &
Nyamukapa 2000). There has been continued pursuit of neo-liberal policies

on most of the continent, although the saps have been replaced by Poverty
Reduction Strategy Programmes, also pushed by the international financial
institutions. Yet, trade unions continue to be at the forefront of resistance to
the policies of privatisation and neo-liberal reform. Have they had an impact?
Have they been able to offer organised political leadership to wider social
forces that share their concern? Have their relations to political parties both
in government and in opposition been able to give direction to their political
intervention? The questions of links to political parties and the defence
of union autonomy have become part of this effort to resist a prevailing,
internationally imposed hegemony at the level of economic policy.
The crisis of Africa’s wage-earning economies
Africa’s wage-earning classes are currently in disarray. After independence

they grew fast with the expansion of the public economy. As states sank into
indebtedness, the position of the wage-earning economy was undermined
(Beckman & Sachikonye 2001). State-led national projects were in crisis and
governments were under pressure to adjust. Wage employment was badly
hit and unions sought to disengage from the state–corporatist order which
seemed to have lost its capacity to deliver. Unions resisted retrenchments,

cuts in wages, privatisation, and the deterioration of social services. They
demanded greater autonomy as well as influence on the direction of govern-
ment policies. Yet, unemployment in the formal economy was high and
growing fast. Formal employment patterns were undermined by the growing
proportion of casual, part-time and subcontracted workers. Manufacturing
in particular was badly hit by the liberalisation of foreign trade and the rise
of major low-income export producers elsewhere. Sectors such as textile and
clothing have experienced rapid deindustrialisation under the impact of the
f lood of cheap imports. Overall, wage employment has not been sustained
despite the growth in some services, including telecommunications. In most
of Africa, trade unions have been shrinking in membership.
A major challenge to the credibility of organised labour as representing

the workers is the size of the informal economy and the process of informalisa-
tion. Most workers are not employed on an indefinitely full-time basis at the
workplace of the employer. Most survive by participating in activities where
there is no formal employer as a bargaining counterpart. Moreover, most of
Africa’s population are farmers, traders or craftsmen. Trade unions represent
a small minority of the working people of Africa and it is not surprising that
parties are able to marginalise them politically. Small and shrinking unions
engage in a struggle for survival in the face of falling real wages, deindustri-
alisation, privatisation, outsourcing and casualisation. Can they still play a
role in politics? Can their own grievances be transformed into wider political
leadership? Is organised labour capable of offering voice and leadership to a
wider range of popular forces? Can it build a parliamentary constituency of its
own? Are trade unions capable of developing political responses that go beyond
the immediate issues of employment and wages? In parts of the continent, we
have seen the emergence of new grassroots movements which seek to provide a
voice for sections of the popular classes that fall outside the immediate domain
of organised labour. Do they represent an alternative social force, a true
popular alternative to an increasingly marginalised trade union movement,
unable to voice wider popular grievances? For many, notions of a new ‘social
movement unionism’ seem to offer a road out of what they argue is the dead

end of formal unionism. Is it the ability to engage with wider social forces and,
in particular, to play an active role in the organisation of the informal economy,
which makes unions meet their wider political responsibilities (Bieler et al.
2008)? Can the unionised workers and their leaders in particular be consid-
ered a ‘labour aristocracy’ that caters only for those already relatively secure
and privileged?
It has long been recognised that large anonymous workplaces are
conducive to collective consciousness and organisation. Similarly, it is
acknowledged that the predominance of self-employment, fragmented
class relations and multiple class identities is usually a poor basis for the
emergence of alternative forms of popular democratic organisations. In
organisational terms, it gives wage labour an advantage over the small

producers and traders that dominate numerically the African scene. The
scope for intervening in politics, however, also depends on the way particular
social groups are situated in the dynamics of the political economy, including
their insertion globally. How central is wage labour to the contradictions
that constitute these societies as peripheral? This, of course, varies strongly
between African countries, depending on the nature of the political
economy – some, for example Senegal and Uganda (see Chapters 2 and 5), are
dominated by an agrarian-based export economy while others, such as South
Africa and Nigeria (Chapters 7 and 4), have been able to develop a substantial
wage-earning population, both in industrial production and in services. The
size and nature of the wage-earning class vary between countries, including
those where public sector employment is dominant and where commodity
production plays a significant role. The political importance of unions is not
just a numerical issue but concerns the strategic location of organised labour
in the economy. Simultaneously, the issue of alliances and the relations
between labour and other groups in society become central in understanding
the political role of trade unions.

Alliances: Trade unions, civil society and democracy
Post-colonial societies are engaged in a complex task of nation building

and economic reconstruction. In many instances, state institutions have
been appropriated by individuals and groups who use them to serve narrow
personal and sectional interests. Some societies have been penetrated by
international agencies in pursuit of their own agendas. In both cases, states
have failed to establish solid roots within the local political economy, roots
that are capable of offering direction to or enforcing the accountability of
either popular or ruling class forces on the ground. It is therefore common
to look to civil society organisations as a possible source for reconstructing
the state. Of course, both intervening agencies from outside and local
political groups have their own notions of what kind of ‘civil society’ will be
supportive of their aspirations. For some, entrepreneurial classes capable of
ensuring market-oriented policies are central to their notions of civil society.
Others look for the organisation of groups that are expected to infuse the
state with some level of popular legitimacy (Harriss et al. 2004; Törnquist et
al. 2009). How central is an organised working class in this respect? In the
African context, a recent collection (Kraus 2007) demonstrated how labour
was at the forefront of the struggles for more democratic institutions and
democratic rule that swept Africa during the tail end of the last century.
Vibrant, militant and independent trade unions, it is argued, provided a
bulwark against authoritarianism. Critical to the achievement of organised
labour in this respect was its ability to strike alliances and provide political
leadership to a wider range of social forces, including the forces battling
apartheid in South Africa. How sustainable was this transition to liberal
democracy? The cases reported in this volume’s study point in different
directions. In the Senegalese case, unions played an active role in over-
turning an effective one-party state, supporting the opposition led by Wade,
only to find new streaks of authoritarianism entrenching themselves in the
state. In Nigeria, unions failed to have any significant impact on the ‘return
to democracy’ in 1999 that was at first greeted with much expectation,

despite repeated attempts to challenge the policies of the state, especially over
petrol prices. We are yet to see the demise of the Mugabe regime, despite
more than a decade of valiant union resistance, including an active role in
the formation of an opposition party. In the Namibian case (Chapter 8, this
volume), it is argued that unions have been effectively subordinated to the
one-party state. In South Africa, cosatu’s spectacular intervention in influ-
encing succession in the anc at the Polokwane conference in December 2007
(Chapter 7) may suggest that the labour movement has been able to retain
the political clout that it demonstrated in the anti-apartheid struggles. Yet,
it may be argued that such intervention carried few gains for the rank and
file of the labour movement, whose authority was appropriated by a narrow
stratum of ambitious union officials. It is a contested issue.

Some of the alliances may have built-in mechanisms that ensure the
subordination of unions, even substituting for the building of strong union
organisational structures. Does a comparison between the Ghanaian and the
South African experience point to differences in this respect? In the former
case, the disengagement of Ghana’s Trades Union Congress from party
politics went hand in hand with an awareness of huge organisational deficits
that the leaders were anxious to address. In the South African case, cosatu
may continue to create the impression of a powerful federation, not least
after its dramatic intervention in anc succession politics at Polokwane. Yet, it
may well be that politically inf luential national centres, such as cosatu, are
outmanoeuvred by their party allies once victory is achieved. The risk is, of
course, particularly great if the organisational life of the individual industrial
unions is weak. There is no doubt that political parties are anxious to ensure
union support at the time of elections. But can they be trusted once they are
voted into power? How easily are unions marginalised in such alliances?
Should they be more concerned with putting their own house in order?

The crisis of neo-liberal globalisation
The dramatic collapse of neo-liberal globalisation in 2008 suggests a new

urgency to the alternative development paths advocated by organised labour.
Unions in the west competed for state attention in infusing resources
in support of affected industries to save employment and the ‘national
economy’. Unions everywhere have been consistently suspicious of or hostile
to the policies of neo-liberalism, privatisation and deregulation. Do they have
an alternative to the market-driven politics that currently faces a major loss of
popular confidence? Some unions think so, which is why they keep organ-
ising themselves politically and trying to intervene in the political process.
In the African context, while so far largely involved in defensive strategies

within a hegemonic neo-liberal paradigm, the current crisis may open up
space for a return to the popular aspirations for modernisation and social
welfare that informed the struggle for national liberation. The political power
of labour does not lie only in its strategic location in the workplace and its
capacity to organise, but also in the power of its ideas. The historic alliances
that have existed between labour and political parties need to be reconsidered
in the context of the new global economy.
Trade unions and political parties: The options
This volume, in exploring the experiences of trade unions in seven African

countries, points to two major options confronted by all of them. One relates
to the conflict between autonomy and political engagement, the other to the
substance of the social transformation envisaged. Are trade unions able to
intervene politically to influence the direction of public policy? How do they
intervene most effectively? Is it as part of a political party, whether in govern-
ment or opposition, or should unions maintain their independence from the
political actors of the parliamentary arena? Can organised labour assert its
influence directly on the state as an independent pressure group? What avenue
do tripartite negotiations that include both government and employers provide

for influencing policy? Autonomy, on the one hand, and influence, on the
other, provides a key dimension of unions’ engagement with political parties,
as discussed in this volume. There is clearly a tension between the two but they
are not necessarily contradictory. Some unionists see closeness to government
and the ruling party as a means of enhancing influence. Does this necessarily
imply loss of ‘autonomy’ or can the two, as argued by the cosatu leaders, be
combined? Others argue, as in the Ghanaian case, that disengagement from
political contestation on a party basis is a precondition for political influence.
How effectively has disengagement been used as a strategy for influencing
policy or does it imply accepting the rules of the game as laid down by others?
Issues of autonomy versus influence cannot be separated from a second key
concern confronting the unions, that relating to the substance of the policy that
is envisaged. Is the concern primarily one of ensuring that they can engage
effectively in collective bargaining on behalf of their members? Do unions
have a vision of a different social order? Is this why they engage themselves
politically? Clearly, the decision of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions
(zctu) to promote the formation of a political party of opposition sprang out
of dissatisfaction with the current political order of that country. Of course,
central to that dissatisfaction was the failure of the regime to listen to the
grievances of the workers, especially those voiced through the unions. The
decision of cosatu to throw itself behind a change of leadership in the anc
was prompted by a critique of the economic policies of the Mbeki government
and a belief that a more union-friendly and less neo-liberal policy regime was
possible. Will Jacob Zuma bring the expected change? Most importantly, on
whose behalf are unions intervening politically? Is it to serve the narrow self-
interests of union careerists concerned with creating the right conditions for
their own climb to power, as some critics would argue? Or are they spear-
heading an alternative social order, a ‘democratic developmental state’ capable
of delivering employment and social welfare to the masses that are currently
excluded? Who is defining that alternative social order and who is ensuring
that those who provide its mouthpieces are accountable to the wider popular
constituency in whose interests they claim to act?

Southern Africa: Incorporation and resistance
What do the country experiences tell us? Are the unions capable of
enhancing political inf luence through engaging with political parties
while simultaneously protecting their autonomy as a popular democratic
force? Are they capable of asserting an alternative political agenda? Are they
transforming society or operating in the context of a status quo or perhaps
even defending it? Are they protecting the special interests of a small and
dwindling wage-earner population or acting as the ‘vanguard’ of a wider
popular constituency?
The disappointment with the failure of unions to offer leadership to
a wider range of popular forces is most strongly articulated in the chapter

on Namibia (Chapter 8). The National Union of Namibian Workers (nunw),
not the only federation but the dominant one and closely linked to the South
West Africa People’s Organisation, the ruling party, has failed, according to
Herbert Jauch, to develop its transformative potential and the wider popular
constituency and support that it once had as a result of its place in the libera-
tion struggle. Instead, it has allowed itself to be incorporated by the ruling
party in its swing to the right. Its protests against the neo-liberal orientation
of the regime have been muted. Foreign capital, as in the case of Ramatex
(discussed in Chapter 8), has succeeded in establishing links deep into the
state. Most deplorable, in this view, is the way in which individual union
leaders have been co-opted into positions of power by the party–state, thereby
obstructing the role of the unions as an autonomous social force. While
unionists in the nunw claim that being a ‘labour-wing’ of the ruling party
enhances political inf luence, the author suggests otherwise. In Namibia’s
case, closeness to political power has spelled not only loss of autonomy, but
also loss of the capacity to pursue an alternative agenda.
Is the story of cosatu, the leading South African confederation,
engaged in a triple alliance with the anc and the sacp, any different? Or is
nunw merely ‘ahead’ of cosatu in this respect, mirroring things to come?
Much depends on what interpretation is given to what happened at the anc

conference in Polokwane when the leadership of Thabo Mbeki was swept
aside and replaced by that of Jacob Zuma, with the support of a coalition
spearheaded by cosatu and the sacp. Polokwane is central to Roger Southall’s
and Eddie Webster’s contribution in Chapter 7. Does it suggest that the
unions have effectively utilised the potential of political influence provided
by the alliance or have they been made use of as part of a personalised game
for power and influence within the anc? Will the anc under Zuma’s leader-
ship be in a position to pursue alternative development policies, reflecting
cosatu’s critique of the government’s neo-liberal orientation? Or will it be
more of the same, possibly with a more ‘populist’ gloss? A major critique of
the Mbeki government was its failure to address mass unemployment. Does
the cosatu-led coalition that brought Zuma to power suggest an alternative?

Or does it rather provide fresh openings for an alternative group of individuals
who will now be able to climb to the top? The authors of Chapter 7, while
pointing at the evidence in support of alternative readings of the situation,
remain prepared to give cosatu and the new anc leadership the benefit of the
doubt – unlike in the Namibian case, where the author highlights the failure
of nunw to live up to expectations. As in the case of Namibia, however, the
restructuring of the labour market and the way in which formal unionisation
is undermined are major worries in South Africa, as is the failure of cosatu
to reach a wider ‘social movement’ constituency. Yet, unlike in Namibia, it
is argued, cosatu has retained an important element of autonomy vis-à-vis
the ruling party. Much of the difference can be explained in structural
terms, especially with reference to levels of industrialisation, wealth and the
formation of a wage-earning class in the public sector economy, all of which
have contributed to notions of South Africa’s ‘exceptionalism’ in Africa.
However, cosatu closely follows what is going on in the region, including
when unions intervene politically and meet with repression, as in the case of
Zimbabwe (Chapter 6). Cosatu has been a strong supporter of the zctu, the
Zimbabwean confederation, in its conflict with the Mugabe regime, often
strongly at variance with the ‘cautious’ approach of the Mbeki government.

Conditions in Zimbabwe continue to deteriorate. Perennial shortages
of production inputs translate into lay-offs as firms downsize or close down.
At the time of writing (late 2008), inf lation had gone totally out of control
and the collapse of the water supply and health services resulted in a deadly
cholera epidemic. The refusal of the Mugabe government to concede defeat
in the 2008 elections led to intensified international pressures for power
sharing with the political opposition led by the Movement for Democratic
Change (mdc). However, a substantive agreement remains elusive and
the situation continues to deteriorate. Workers are pushed into individual
survival strategies and both organised labour and other civil society organisa-
tions face fresh repression. The zctu continues to be subjected to violent
harassment and intimidation. Although instrumental in the formation of

the mdc in 1999, the zctu is not a part of it. There is no formal or informal
alliance. While the multi-class basis of the mdc is reflected in its ideological
outlook, the Mugabe regime seems convinced that the zctu is a major
supporter of the political opposition and seeks to destroy it. The organising
and funding of rival unions, although largely ineffectual in terms of
building a credible pro-government union centre, serves as a major source of
harassment of existing ‘legitimate’ unions. The zctu battles to defend itself
against repression and fragmentation and to maintain its internal cohesion.
In the midst of this, it engages in tripartite negotiations in an effort to
stabilise society and the economy, struggling to balance a dual agenda of
both seeking dialogue and exercising pressure. In relation to the mdc, its
policies are based on both solidarity and autonomy, according to the authors
of Chapter 6, zctu president Lovemore Matombo and Lloyd Sachikonye. As
the largest organisation in civil society, the zctu continues to build alliances
and offer leadership. By allying itself, through the mdc, to other groups in
opposition committed to a liberal–capitalist road, the agenda of the unions
is not transformative in the sense envisaged by the radical critics of nunw
and cosatu. However, it is concerned with the overthrow of a political order
that is stif ling national development. In defending the rights of workers to

organise themselves autonomously from the state, the zctu is part of a wider
defence of organisational rights in society, transcending the interests of a
wage-earning population.
West Africa: Pluralism and autonomy
Four other experiences are discussed in the volume, three from West Africa
and one from East Africa. In both Senegal (Chapter 2) and Ghana (Chapter 3),
disengaging from dominant political parties rather than establishing a
political party of one’s own is the prevailing concern, although the patterns
of party–union links in the two cases are very different. While both sets of
unions have strong links historically to the political party that led the country
to national independence, Ghana’s unions were able to dissociate themselves
from the party in government and have fiercely asserted their autonomy in
the face of repeated attempts to rope them in or to establish political control
from above. In Senegal, while the idea of a one-party state was abandoned
at an early point in favour of a more liberal political regime, it was only
in March 2000 that the uninterrupted rule of the Parti Socialiste (ps) of
Leopold Senghor and Abdou Diouf was brought to an end with the election
of Abdoulaye Wade. The largest trade union centre, Confédération Nationale
des Travailleurs du Sénégal (cnts), had been officially affiliated to the ruling
party, although workers’ worries about structural adjustment and neo-liberal
reforms had caused a shift towards greater union autonomy. This was demon-
strated, for instance, in the two general strikes in 1993 and 1997 that were
facilitated by inter-union cooperation within a strongly pluralist structure
(Tidjani & Ndiaye 2001). After the ps election defeat in 2000, cnts officially
broke off from the party. Widespread popular disenchantment with the de
facto one-party rule meant that Wade’s election was supported by a broad
coalition of centrist and left-wing political parties, many with their own affili-
ated trade unions. Wade’s party, Parti Démocratique Sénégalais, the dominant
opposition party, however, had no history of trade union involvement. In
government, it sought to replicate the politics of its predecessor, vying for

control of the leading trade union centre and so causing a split between a
state-friendly and a more ‘autonomist’ part of cnts. The continued commit-
ment of the new regime to neo-liberal policies has caused the disintegration
of the political coalition that brought Wade to power. In its attempt to rope in
the unions, the regime has been dangling official grants. In Chapter 2, Alfred
Inis Ndiaye reviews the complex patterns of union–party–state relations
and how they have been affected by government economic policies. There is
the lure of state patronage, especially for union leaders. However, the shift
towards greater union autonomy and the growth of inter-union cooperation
have enhanced the capacity to oppose neo-liberal reforms.
Senegal is unique in its development of a plurality of trade union
centres, most of which are attached to political parties. Typically, however,

our cases show the dominance – by law or in actual practice – of one centre,
as derived from its historical role in the anti-colonial struggle. This is the
case with the Ghana Trade Union Congress (gtuc), discussed in Chapter 3
by Emmanuel Akwetey. A policy of non-association with political parties
was adopted by gtuc in 1992 and was incorporated into its constitution.
The decision was taken partly in order to distance the gtuc from its past as
a close affiliate of Kwame Nkrumah’s defunct Convention People’s Party,
and as a ‘stand-in’ political opposition in confronting the government of the
Busia period. It also had an unsuccessful record of forming a party of its
own. In particular, staying out of party politics was a way of managing the
political terrain of the 1990s where it seemed that strict neutrality between
the antagonistic Rawlings government and the political opposition was the
best avenue not only for survival but for influencing politics. While Akwetey
takes an understanding view of this logic, he notes that the gtuc has failed
to have much impact on policies that have continued to shift in a neo-liberal
direction, especially with the Kufuor presidency after the electoral success of
the opposition in 2000.
The Nigeria Labour Congress (nlc) was established by military decree
in 1978 as the sole trade union centre. While the merger of previously rival
centres was a strategy of enhancing state control, a new radical leadership

ensured continued union autonomy and militancy with repeated confronta-
tions with the state. The organisation was banned twice. A more liberal
political dispensation after the return to civilian rule in 1999 caused a formal
end to organisational monopoly but the nlc and its affiliates have continued
to dominate the labour scene. The nlc and its predecessors have a long
history of political involvement, both in organising separate labour parties
and in supporting other party formations, as in the case of the ill-fated
Social Democratic Party of the aborted 1993 elections and the Labour Party
that was compelled by military decree to join it (Beckman 1995; Andrae &
Beckman 1998/99). Chapter 4 focuses on the Labour Party that was estab-
lished in 2003 and how it relates to the wider pattern of alliance building
in society. The nlc was at loggerheads with the Obasanjo regime. It has
demonstrated a wide popular following and staying power, especially in the
repeated clashes over the pricing of local petroleum products. It has failed,
however, to translate its undoubted political clout into effective parliamentary
involvement. The new Labour Party is a failure, including in its half-hearted
attempts to assert its presence in the grossly corrupt 2007 elections. The
former president of the nlc, Adams Oshiomhole, succeeded in winning his
home state in a fierce gubernatorial race. While certainly drawing on labour’s
support, he was not standing on the ticket of the Labour Party. Chapter 4
was jointly authored by Björn Beckman and Salihu Lukman. At the time of
writing a deputy general secretary of the nlc, Lukman played a central role
in a project to expand the nlc’s networks in civil society, laying the ground-
work for the formation of the Labour Party.
In Nigeria, governments have made repeated attempts to undercut
existing leaders or promote alternative structures, but with little success.
Unlike in Senegal where a multitude of parties have their own unions, no
political parties of any significance have been able to make an inroad into
the Nigerian union camp. Unions have similarly failed to have much impact
on party politics, despite a strong tradition of having parties of their own.
Repeatedly, however, unions have been able to draw on wide popular support
in confronting the state in relation to specific grievances, such as over

increases in the petrol price. There are few unionised workers in a society
dominated by peasant production, crafts and petty trade and unions have not
had much impact on the direction of economic policy. Yet, their organisational
skills and programmatic concerns have made them the mouthpiece of an
alternative popular agenda.
Uganda: Authoritarianism, incorporation, and marginalisation
In the cases discussed so far, trade unions continue to play a significant role
in society, despite the smallness of the working class. Only in South Africa
is the wage-earning population large enough to make unions a major player
in party politics. But also in Zimbabwe, despite the crisis and the dwindling
base of the zctu, unions have been instrumental in providing alternative
leadership in opposition to an increasingly backward authoritarian state.
Union autonomy has been effectively sustained in Ghana and Nigeria,
despite attempts at suppression, and Nigerian unions have demonstrated a
repeated capacity for popular mobilisation. In Senegal, the disintegration
of effective one-party domination has reinforced the movement towards
greater union autonomy. Even in Namibia, where it is suggested that unions
have been effectively subordinated by the dominant party, their historical
contribution to the struggle for national liberation has generated major gains
in labour legislation, even if these have been subverted by state support for
casualisation and neo-liberal labour market policies. In a number of African
countries, however, unions are weak and have failed to have any significant
impact, either as a source of autonomous organisation in society or on public
policy. As in Uganda, they face an authoritarian and neo-liberal state. In
Chapter 5, John-Jean Barya reports how the Ugandan union movement has
been suppressed and marginalised. He suggests that the union leadership
has been incorporated by the Museveni regime, primarily through patron–
client relations. Although seats in Parliament are reserved for labour, the
mps are compelled to toe the government line. Unions find it difficult to
take an independent pro-worker stand. They have been further emasculated

by changes in economic policy in a neo-liberal direction. Interestingly,
more progressive labour laws have recently been introduced, not because of
successful local union pressure but as a condition of the Africa Growth and
Opportunity Act, a preferential trading agreement with the usa. In practice,
the new labour rights are ineffectual despite the support from the ilo and
foreign trade unions. Casualisation has caused previous gains to be rolled
back. What matters to the regime are the profits for the investors (Andrae
2004). By making alliances with sympathetic organisations in civil and
political society outside of Parliament the unions seek to break out of the
stif ling grip of the regime.
Conclusions: Autonomy, influence and party politics
So what answers are provided by this volume to the initial questions about
autonomy, influence and party politics? Can these things be combined
to enhance union power or are unions increasingly a spent force in party
political terms? This volume reports on divergent trajectories. In Uganda,
they have been subordinated and marginalised as corporate entities in the
‘no-party’ strategy of the Museveni regime. In Ghana unions seek to enhance
their political influence by deliberately deciding to stay out of party politics,
while in Namibia they seem to be pursuing the opposite road – sacrificing,
it is argued, the wider transformative mission and a wider popular base by
trying to stay close to those in power. Radical critics of the unions elsewhere
would agree. From this perspective, the failure of Nigeria’s Labour Party, for
instance, could be seen as the outcome of the political ambitions of union
leaders. Yet, the valiant resistance of the zctu to brutal repression, and the
leadership that unions have been able to give to popular struggles elsewhere,
suggest that they cannot be regarded as a spent force. Even where strategies
are contested, as in the case of the Polokwane intervention into anc succes-
sion politics, unions continue to demonstrate political clout. Where does this
come from? The autonomy generated by the need to protect the interests of
workers within the wage relations may be an important part of the answer. In

most African countries, there are few wage earners in comparison to the mass
of peasants, traders and other petty commodity producers. The organisational
exposure and competence of the workers, as well as their international links
and the centrality of wage labour in the modernisation process, suggest that
they will continue to play a leading role in popular politics, including on
continents like Africa where they constitute a small minority. This volume
suggests that union leaders in much of Africa are aware of the special
responsibilities that go with this role, especially in a context where there
are few other articulate groups that can claim popular democratic roots.
Successful unionists may also be absorbed in national politics and be given
prominent national assignments. To what extent does it suggest a working-
class influence on politics? The political incorporation and marginalisation of

union leaders may be an important theme for further research.
In the final chapter of this volume, Sakhela Buhlungu looks at ‘the
ways in which the discourse and practice of national liberation shaped (and
continue to shape) the different forms of unionism that have emerged on
the continent’. The chapter is not intended as a summary or conclusion of
the discussion in the rest of the volume. What it seeks to do, rather, is to
suggest a framework for understanding the reasons why unions choose to
relate (or not to relate) to national liberation movements and other political
parties. Buhlungu argues that the ideology and practice of national liberation
has shaped and continues to shape the goals that unions set themselves, the
strategies they employ to achieve these goals, and the modes of organisation
and mobilisation they adopt.
Will unions be able to take a lead in deepening the popular and demo-
cratic content of Africa’s party politics? The evidence provided by this volume
is far from unambiguous and opens up space for alternative interpretations.
One thing is certain – the relations between trade unions and political parties
continue to be hotly contested.

References
Akwetey EO (2001) Democratic transition and post-colonial labour regimes in Zambia
and Ghana. In B Beckman & LM Sachikonye (eds) Labour regimes and liberalization:
The restructuring of state-society relations in Africa. Harare: University of Zimbabwe
Publications
Andrae G (2004) Anti-worker adjustment in the Ugandan textile industry. In G
Williams (ed.) Democracy, labour and civil society. Kano: Crd
Andrae G & Beckman B (1998/99) Union power in the Nigerian textile industry. Uppsala
& Kano: Nai & Crd
Beckman B (1995) The politics of labour and adjustment: The experience of the Nigeria
Labour Congress. In T Mkandawire & AOlukoshi (eds) Between liberalisation and

oppression: The politics of structural adjustment in Africa. Dakar: Codesria Books
Beckman B & Sachikonye LM (eds) (2001) Labour regimes and liberalization: The
restructuring of state-society relations in Africa. Harare: University of Zimbabwe
Publications
Bieler A, Lindberg I & Pillay D (eds) (2008) Labour and the challenges of globalization.
What prospects for transnational solidarity? London: Pluto Press
Freund W (1988) The African worker. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press
Harriss J, Stokke K& Törnquist O (eds) (2004) Politicising democracy: The new local
politics of democratisation. Basingstoke: Palgrave
Jose AV (ed.) (2002) Organized labour in the 21st century. Geneva: Iils
Kraus J (ed.) (2007) Trade unions and the coming of democracy in Africa. New York:
Palgrave MacMillan
Sibanda A & Nyamukapa D (eds) (2000) Industrial relations and saps in Africa. Harare:
Uz Press
Tidjani B & Ndiaye AI (2001) Liberalization and labour regimes: The case of Senegalese
industrial relations. In B Beckman & LM Sachikonye (eds) Labour regimes and
liberalization: The restructuring of state-society relations in Africa. Harare: University
of Zimbabwe Publications
Törnquist O, Stokke K & Webster N (eds) (2009) Rethinking popular representation. New
York: Palgrave Macmillan

2
Autonomy or political affiliation? Senegalese trade unions

in the face of economic and political reforms
Alfred Inis Ndiaye
Introduction
since the early 1980s Senegal has engaged in a dual process of economic
and political reform. With the support of international financial institutions
the state has been promoting a ‘market economy’, an option made necessary,
in the views of those institutions, by globalisation. Simultaneously, the
country has initiated a process of democratisation of its political life.
Economic liberalism and political pluralism have become the order of the
day. These changes have brought about an important redefinition of the
relationship between trade unions and political parties and facilitated the
change of government in March 2000 (Diagne & Daffé 2002; Diop 1992,
2002a, 2002b, 2002c, 2004; Diop & Diouf 1990). Abdoulaye Wade, with the
support of a coalition of centrist and left-wing political parties, was elected
president of the republic, replacing Abdou Diouf of the Parti Socialiste (ps)
(Revue Politique Africaine 2004). In line with the stand of his political party,
the Parti Démocratique Sénégalais (pds), the new president has accelerated
the neo-liberal reforms by intensifying the privatisation of the state sector.
He has also stepped up the withdrawal of the state from the management of
social sectors such as education and health.
The reforms constitute a challenge to the workers and to the trade
union movement in terms of its organisation, ideology and actions. In
addition, they have affected the state’s model of managing the unions and
23

their relations to political parties. The new ruling party continues to resist
trade union pluralism, a process that has been going on for some time,
and in particular, the growing assertion of trade union autonomy vis-à-vis
political parties, including the new ruling party. The autonomy has been
reinforced by alliances among the unions and the creation of new inter-
union structures both at local and national levels. These developments
have enhanced the capacity of trade unions to oppose the economic reforms
pursued by the new government (Ndiaye 1997, 2002).
For 30 years the Confédération Nationale des Travailleurs du Sénégal
(cnts), by far the most important national union body, had been affiliated to
the previous ruling party, the ps, although there had been a process towards
greater autonomy for some time (Tidjani & Ndiaye 2001). When the party
lost power in the 2000 elections, the cnts decided to step up the process
and disaffiliated itself officially from the party, becoming an independent
organisation in line with other Senegalese unions. However, the new ruling
party (the pds) was determined to replicate the old model by setting up a
group of unions affiliated to it.
This chapter explores the impact of economic and political transfor-
mations on the recomposition of the trade union movement in Senegal and
its effects on the relations between trade unions and political parties. It seeks
to cast light on the evolution of those relations over the past 15 years, focusing
on trade union resistance to economic liberalisation, alliances between trade
unions and political parties, and the implicit ‘model’ that informed the
strategies pursued by the state vis-á-vis the trade unions. The analysis draws
on continuous observations of the trade union scene, including interviews
with trade unionists and political and economic actors.
The chapter is organised in three parts. The first looks at the terms
of the governmental control over trade unions that was exercised during
the period of state intervention (1960–80) and the limitations which this
imposed on the unions. The second part recalls the impact of the policies of
‘structural adjustment’ during the following two decades and the recomposi-
tion of the trade union landscape that these policies generated. The last part

explores the recent trends in the relationships between the state and trade
unions and between trade unions and political parties in the context of the
accelerated neo-liberal reforms of the post-2000 period. It includes a discus-
sion of alternative trade union policies in relation to those reforms.
Nation building and the control of trade unions
As Senegal became independent, the nationalist project of the new elites

required the restructuring of the trade union movement and a redefinition of
its objectives. Political control over the unions was perceived by the govern-
ment as a precondition for nation building. During the colonial period,
the history of the union movement was part and parcel of the development
of French West Africa (Afrique Occidentale Française, aof), a context that
legitimated, or even made natural, a close connection between the unions
and the movement for national independence. Simultaneously, colonial
legalisation of trade unions was based on a reformist conception and involved
a mode of state control over unions (Martens 1983). Metropolitan unions
also had an interest in exercising control over African unions (Gladstone
1980), but decolonisation strengthened the autonomy of the African trade
union movement, enabling the Union Générale des Travailleurs de l’Afrique
Noire to play a major role (Zucarelli 1970). With the disintegration of aof,
the creation of national structures, and the installation of dominant political
parties, the movement entered a difficult process of domestication, resulting
in the emergence of national trade unions (Martens 1982; Meynaud &
Salah-Bey 1963; Zucarelli 1970).
Until the beginning of the 1970s, social modernisation was the
dominant paradigm in newly independent Senegal and it revolved around
a state-led process of nation building. Nation building was at the centre of
the nationalist project championed by the new elites (Zucarelli 1970). Trade
unions were assigned an important place in the nationalist project. The state
was expected to promote a broad-based, powerful and dominant body of
unions affiliated to the ruling party. These unions were supposedly to play
Autonomy or political affiliation? 25

a leading role in the development effort, similar to that expected from the
dominant party in the government field. A coordination committee was set
up that provided a new framework for the relations between the ruling party
and the leading unions.
The first experiment of cooperation failed. Under pressures from
the workers, the unions decided to disengage from the ruling party. The
reaction of the authorities was violent. The ruling party disbanded union
leadership structures and initiated a new central body, the cnts, purging all
forces hostile to its policy of nation building. Trade unions were expected
to adopt the same ideological orientation as the ruling party and the new
central union organisation committed itself to ‘participate responsibly’ in the
national development effort. In return, the ruling party would ensure that
the officially sanctioned unions were given full access to and treated as part
of the institutions of public life. The new policy of ‘responsible participation’
was assumed to take care of workers’ legitimate desire to take part in all
national decisions that affected their well-being. Under the new arrangement
the cnts was considered to be an integral part of the ruling party and it had a
specified share of both mps and ministerial posts. The unions were expected
to reciprocate this by guaranteeing industrial peace. Furthermore, member-
ship of cnts was made compulsory for wage-earning or salaried members of
the ruling party and vice versa (Zucarelli 1970).
The arrangement facilitated the domination of the unions by the
ruling party, which was authorised to intervene whenever it deemed it
necessary. The party regularly imposed its candidates at trade union
conferences. In the face of an intensified economic crisis, trade unions were
increasingly paralysed by party control. In 1976 the ruling party was made
an affiliate of the Socialist International and took the name Parti Socialiste.
In line with the new international arrangements, cnts shifted from being
an integral part of the party to being an affiliated organisation. Although the
control by the party was not put in question, the change of status nonetheless
stopped the flight of some grassroots militants.

Following the adoption of a reform programme in the early 1980s,
party politics was liberalised to allow for a more competitive political
structure and for trade union pluralism. According to the new president,
Abdou Diouf, the democratisation of the structures of the ruling party was
a prerequisite for opening up to the political opposition and civil society.
However, in practice, the process was obstructed by those in power. Inside
the cnts and the union movement there was a battle for control, with one
faction continuing to operate close to the state on the basis of an adjusted
form of ‘responsible participation’. It was opposed by another faction that
wanted greater autonomy and more internal democracy, and which was
anxious to protect the unions as an instrument catering exclusively for the
interests of the workers. At the cnts national congress in 1982, the latter, the
‘autonomists’, had the upper hand.
Structural adjustment programmes and trade union autonomy
The economic and political reforms strongly influenced the trade unions,
contributing to new relations between unions and politics. The structural
adjustment programmes (saps) that took the form of economic adjustment
and macroeconomic stabilisation have dominated development thinking and
practice in Senegal since the early 1980s. The substance of the new paradigm
was to replace state intervention with regulation through the market. The
public and parastatal sectors of the economy were particularly affected as
illustrated, for instance, in the new agricultural and industrial policies that
were adopted in 1984 and 1986 respectively (Lachaud 1987).
The new official slogan was ‘less state intervention and better state
intervention’. The effect of the changes was that the sovereignty of the state
was weakened to the advantage of foreign donors and international finance
institutions. The disengagement of the state involved privatisation and
price liberalisation as well as cutting the budgets for social sectors such as
education and health. The social effects were disastrous, particularly because

of deindustrialisation, the deterioration of agriculture, and a rise in the cost
of living. The economic reforms brought unemployment and job insecurity.
Sharp tensions were generated between the state and the organisations
which were supposed to represent the workers. The state sought to neutralise
the effects by setting up ‘shock absorbing’ structures to manage the employ-
ment crisis and to deal with protests from opposition parties, trade unions
and other social forces.
President Diouf took measures that contributed to a noticeable
decrease of social tensions, succeeding in drawing to the side of the
government sectors of civil society that thus far had been hostile. Until the
beginning of the 1990s, the saps of the state could be implemented without
effective opposition. The regime was able to expand its social base and to
neutralise hostile social forces. The continued affiliation of the largest trade
unions to the ruling party obstructed the unification of a fragmented labour
movement in opposition to the state. In 1989 the ps regained control over the
cnts, the dominant trade union body. Autonomous trade unions were infil-
trated by partisans of the regime, and when they could not be neutralised, the
state attempted to destroy them with the complicity of employers. The ruling
party reactivated its ‘political committees’ within enterprises. Although the
regime was able to consolidate its control over the major actors within the
trade union movement, more autonomous ones kept emerging.
The Senegalese trade union movement has a long-standing tradition
of pluralism and independence and the autonomist approach was not a new
feature (Diallo 2002). During the period of ‘nation building’, individual
unions decided at an early point that it was not possible for a trade union
to cooperate with the government while safeguarding its independence.
However, the state was committed to a mode of control that included heavy
repression, and the development of autonomous unions was obstructed. With
the official restoration of trade union pluralism in 1976, conditions improved.
Unions belonging to the autonomous movement managed to
establish themselves in all sectors of the economy. These unions have varied
backgrounds. The first generation emerged before structural adjustment

and was often linked to the political opposition against a de facto one-party
state, engaging in protest campaigns. However, their close link to opposi-
tion parties was in itself a constraint on autonomy. The restoration of the
multiparty system, by allowing the parties of the opposition to develop
more freely, undermined the efforts to unite the unions on an autonomous
platform (Ndiaye 1997). Most of the leaders of a second generation of
autonomous trade unions were dissidents who left the ruling party-affiliated
cnts. They contested the policy of ‘responsible participation’ and questioned
its ability to meet the workers’ demands. Some were members of the Syndicat
Unique et Démocratique des Enseignants du Sénégal (sudes), a federation of
independent trade unions. While sudes was often accused of being an instru-
ment at the service of a left-wing political party, most leaders of the second
generation of autonomous trade unions were not committed to a particular
political party, insisting on being independent from both political parties and
the government (Ndiaye 1997).
Although by no means homogeneous as a group, the principle of
autonomy provided these unions with a common identity, based on a critique
of the way in which trade unions had been subjected to state and party control
since independence. The economic crisis and the reform policies pursued
by the government reinforced the rise of autonomous unions as a response.
Political control from outside had stifled union democracy. From their own
lived experience, workers noticed that their demands were not effectively
articulated, neither by the unions that were affiliated to the ruling party nor
by those that were controlled by other political parties. Trade union autonomy
was giving a voice to workers’ grievances. Simultaneously, it was seen as a
means of allowing for more democracy in the running of the unions.
The consolidation of the autonomous trade union movement facilitated
the construction of new alliances at the local, sector and national levels in
response to the economic reforms, including the freezing of wage and salary
levels, the rise in the prices of basic consumption goods, the loss of jobs and
employment insecurity. The capacity to negotiate with employers and the
government was reinforced. The successful general strikes of 1993 and 1999

were supported by broad coalitions of unions where workers were able for the
first time to challenge the conduct of the economic reforms, including the
philosophy and objectives on which they were based (Ndiaye 2002; Ndiaye &
Tidjani 1995). By setting up inter-union structures, the workers’ movement
acquired the means to influence the conduct of the neo-liberal policies that
were intensified when a new party came to power in 2000.
The intensification of neo-liberal policies
The regime change of 2000 which brought into power the government of
President Abdoulaye Wade was a critical moment for the process of social
modernisation. Having suffered from the effects of the long economic crisis,
and after years of reforms with few positive results, the workers took an active
part in the parliamentary struggles that brought about the change of govern-
ment. They had great expectations of what it would bring in terms of improved
living conditions. However, the new regime was committed to the neo-liberal
policies of its predecessors. The reforms were accelerated, especially in the
areas of privatisation and in changing the status of employment, with greater
reliance on contract labour, a considerably more insecure form of employment.
Senegal has experienced two waves of privatisation. The first aimed
at opening up the domestic market and was marked by massive job losses.
Production in the formal economy was disorganised by the reforms that
were supposed to benefit the informal sector and generate a ‘trade-based’
economy. ‘Subsidies’ that thus far had been given to the public and parastatal
sectors were either removed altogether or significantly reduced. Managers
were simultaneously given greater autonomy while being expected to provide
greater accountability at the level of the firm. The objective was to mobilise
public and private savings for the benefit of productive investments. This
was not achieved. The second wave of privatisation related, in particular, to
the strategic sectors of water, electricity, telecommunications and ground-

nuts. While successful in the area of telecommunications, it failed in the
groundnut sector. In the case of electricity, the state keeps trying, despite the
failure of the privatisation attempts so far.
The Wade regime has intensified the liberalising of employment in
the public sector, shifting new recruitment to subcontracting and contract
work. In public education, for instance, while contract teachers had been
used since 1992, the policy was expanded with the new regime. Contract staff
are expected to perform the same duties as those in regular employment
while being paid the minimum wage without any social security benefits,
family allowances, pensions or retirement benefits as negotiated by the
unions. In the case of contract teachers, they must register for recruitment
on a special waiting list. Other parts of the public services, such as health
and justice, have been resorting to ‘auxiliary’, ‘voluntary’ and ‘benevolent’
workers in addition to those on contract. The government’s objective is to
move to a situation where regularly employed workers are a minority in the
public services. Contract appointments are seen to be in line with the logic
of a neo-liberal project (Diallo 2002). Both privatisation and the expansion of
contract work are part of an economic liberalisation programme that is poorly
managed. It is met with resistance from the trade unions. The new ruling
party has therefore been anxious to develop a policy of controlling the trade
unions in order to pave the way for continued reforms.
Between affiliation and autonomy
Trade unions were deeply involved in the presidential election campaign

of 2000. Leaders and activists (especially mps) of the cnts, the dominant
union body affiliated to the ruling Socialist Party, actively campaigned for
the outgoing candidate, President Diouf. Meanwhile, the Confédération des
Syndicats Autonomes (csa) was close to the left-wing political opposition and
campaigned for Wade. The csa justified its stand by arguing that the outgoing

regime, after years of reforms, was incapable of protecting the conditions
of the workers. They pointed out that 40 years of power for the ps had only
resulted in unemployment and widening poverty. According to the csa, Wade
was the best choice for improving the economic situation of the country,
and consequently the conditions of the workers. He was also supported by a
coalition of opposition parties, including some that were left-wing.
However, not all unions of the autonomy movement were behind
Wade. The Union Nationale des Syndicats Autonomes du Sénégal (unsas),
a group of trade unions active in education, health and energy, refrained
from giving its members any directive on how to vote in the election. Unsas’
autonomous position had been consolidated during the years of reforms.
It based itself on the principle of an organisational separation of party

politics and trade union struggles. It therefore came as a big surprise when
the Secretary General of unsas not only came out in support of forming a
political party, but even presented himself as a candidate for the presidency
in the elections.
The victory of the candidate of the opposition generated tremendous
hope among the workers. For the cnts it was also an occasion to distance
itself from the ps, the losing party, to which it had been affiliated since its
creation in 1969. The final resolution of the eighth cnts congress held in
November 2001 unanimously adopted an end to ‘responsible participation’
and disaffiliation from the ps in favour of ‘free, independent and democratic’
organisation whose only objective would be the defence of the material and
moral interests of workers. For some, the policy of affiliation had primarily
served the purpose of ensuring special access to public resources, including
access to funding and political positions. The decision to disaffiliate was the
result of a long struggle involving both the defence of affiliation on ideo-
logical grounds and an argument for trade union and political pluralism and
organisational democracy.
The new ruling party, the pds of Abdoulaye Wade, being anxious
to ensure direct control over the dominant section of the trade union
movement, at first made the cnts its primary target. It interfered in the

organisation of the eighth congress of the cnts and was explicit in its
support for the candidacy of certain trade union leaders. When these
leaders lost out in the contest for the position of Secretary General, the pds
changed its strategy. After the elections it encouraged a split within the cnts,
promoting the creation of a new central body made up of cnts dissidents
under the name cnts/Forces du Changement (fc). The new regime thus
decided to replicate an arrangement that thus far had stood in the way of
union autonomy. Although the cnts/fc is not formally affiliated to the pds,
the regime does not miss an opportunity to advertise its close alliance with
the body, going so far as to protect its leaders against criminal charges, for
example in the case when a fire broke out in the offices of the union in March
2002, resulting in the death of a trade union militant and the wounding of
many others.
The decision by the pds to continue the ps strategy of tying trade unions
closely to itself was by no means the only alternative that was available to the
new ruling party. Apart from a short-lived attempt way back in the 1970s,
Wade’s party had no experience of union affiliation. The three left-wing parties
which supported the election of Wade all had their own trade unions that were
close to them. Most of the party militants belonged to these unions. Once in
power, however, instead of drawing on its electoral allies, the pds set out to
reproduce the model of its predecessor. Why was this so? At an early point, the
radical unions that had supported the Wade election were effectively alienated
from the new regime. To their disappointment, no significant change was
emanating from the new regime as the pds was merely continuing the same
discredited old policies of the ps government. In fact, former leaders of the ps
had negotiated their transfer to the pds after its victory at the polls and were
soon to constitute the pillars of the new regime. In view of these develop-
ments, it was only natural that the pds mechanically reproduced the trade
union policy of the old regime, including its strategy for control. This view was
reinforced by the apparently close links between unions and political elites.
Both unions and parties were used in negotiating access to public resources
on an individual basis. Many trade unionists were primarily motivated by such

personal enrichment. In this context ‘social peace in the places of work’ could
be seen as mere bargaining chips that union actors would use in ensuring
preferential access in the political arena. Simultaneously, politicians believe
that it is important to be able to control the unions because of their assumed
importance in securing wider social support.
The new regime did not hesitate to use access to public resources as
a means of enticing union leaders to join the government camp. This can
be illustrated by its haste in organising fresh union elections in the various
central union bodies and by its discriminatory allocation of public funds.
Some unions were selected and heavily subsidised while others were less
favoured. A distinction was made between unions that were officially recog-
nised and those that were not. Others were left to discuss among themselves
how the subsidy was to be shared, a sure recipe for dissension, particularly
because there were no verified membership figures for the specific unions.
The outcomes of recent political developments in Senegal for trade
unions have been contradictory. On the one hand, the autonomous trade
union movement has been reinforced as a result of the change of government
and, in particular, the disaffiliation of the cnts from the Socialist Party. On
the other hand, we find that the new ruling party is bent on reproducing the
same discredited model of political control: having unions affiliating to the
party. In addition, the new regime is deliberately fomenting conflict within
a fragmented union movement in order to facilitate the systematic enforce-
ment of its neo-liberal policies.
The deepening economic crisis and accelerated government reforms
have compelled trade unions to reform themselves, including by promoting
a wider social dialogue that makes them less vulnerable to unilateral
manipulation by the state. Since the beginning of the 1990s, trade unions
have restructured their organisational structures, adapting their ways of
functioning to the new social context. Managing pluralism and the diversity
of union orientations is part and parcel of the new realities facing the
Senegalese workers’ movement today.

A major challenge has been the effort to create new trade union struc-
tures that are capable of bridging divisions at the national, sector and branch
levels. This is one of the defining features of the post-adjustment trade union
movement (Ndiaye 2002). While pointing to the capacity of the workers to
construct new models of organisation, these coalitions have simultaneously
reinforced their capacity to negotiate with both government and employers.
Thanks to the inter-trade union structures, workers have been able to
question the implementation of the market economic reforms by the state.
Inter-union structures help workers to engage with the process of
privatisation at the level of specific enterprises. The experience of the telecom-
munication sector with the Société Nationale des Télécommunications du
Sénégal (sonatel) suggests that inter-trade union structures can play a positive
role in privatisation. They have enabled workers to mobilise existing expertise
within the firm and give priority to pragmatic solutions that allow workers
to have security of employment and a stake in the company’s capital while
preserving its public service mission. In some cases, workers have succeeded
in inserting considerations for local interests into the objectives of their foreign
strategic partners. The sonatel is probably the most successful case.
The reformed trade unions have promoted social dialogue, pointing to
the need to reconstruct the rules of social consultation and collective negotia-
tion. The successes of large-scale industrial disputes in the 1990s have
contributed to sensitising other actors to the need for careful cooperation.
The National Charter on Social Dialogue (Charte nationale sur le dialogue
social), drafted and adopted in November 2002 by almost all the ‘social
partners’ (government, employers’ associations and workers’ unions), is a key
element in the actualisation of ‘social dialogue’. However, the essential parts
of the structures provided for in the Charter are not yet in place. Needless to
say, social dialogue is still in a fragile state. The conflict potential remains
high and the rules of consultation are still dysfunctional. In responding
to grievances, employers continue to be dismissive of workers’ claims and
trade unions continue to be suspicious of the intentions of the government.

In the absence of reliable figures on membership, each union is allowed to
make unconfirmed claims about its own ‘representivity’. This constitutes an
obstacle to the establishment of reliable mechanisms of collective negotia-
tion. Moreover, the declared preference of the new regime to reproduce the
model of selective union affiliation does not facilitate the stabilisation of
relations between unions and the state. By opting for privileged relationships
on a partisan basis with one set of trade unions, the regime reinforces the
distrust which has always characterised the purported ‘partnership’. The lack
of mechanisms for consultations and collective negotiations obliges unions
to continue to rely on strikes and other means of industrial action as their
main tool for asserting power.
Conclusion
The relations between trade unions and party politics in Senegal have
developed in a context marked by the enforcement of political and economic
reforms and the acceleration of neo-liberal policies. The reconstruction of the
trade union movement has continued, with the rise of an autonomous trade
union movement as its most significant feature. Drawing from an experience
of state intervention and state preference, a major section of the workers are
convinced that trade union autonomy provides them with the most efficient
means of pursuing their interests in the context of reforms. Simultaneously,
trade union resistance to economic liberalisation has continued and intensi-
fied. In recent years workers have engaged in trade union alliance building
and in establishing new inter-trade union structures. These coalitions have
enhanced the capacity of trade unions to resist the state’s market reforms.
They have also strengthened union capacity to intervene in the reform
process, including the policies of privatisation. More generally, the trade
union movement has reinforced its autonomy and independence vis-à-vis
political parties in power as well as in relation to opposition parties. We
observe, however, that the opposition to trade union autonomy continues to

die hard among the advocates of political control. The pds seeks to reproduce
the model of state preference inherited from its predecessor, expecting
leading trade unions to be affiliated to the ruling party.
The conclusions indicate an important transformation of the
relations between unions and politics. With the adoption in 2002 of the
National Charter, there are new possibilities for negotiations among the
‘social partners’, although the implementation of the Charter faces major
impediments. The reinforcement of trade union autonomy and a will to
enhance consultations and collective negotiations have created new openings
for the Senegalese trade union movement. Mutual distrust and continued
government interventions, however, keep obstructing the relations. The
modernisation of the political system is the key to the stabilisation of

industrial relations so that it can be the basis for the emergence of Senegal as
modern nation.
References
Diagne A & Daffe G (eds) (2002) Le Sénégal en quête d’une croissance durable. Crea:
Karthala
Diallo K (2002) Le mouvement syndical. Crises et recompositions. In MC Diop (ed.)
La société Sénégalaise entre le local et le global. Paris: Karthala
Diop MC (ed.) (1992) Sénégal, trajectoires d’un Etat. Dakar: Série des Livres du Codesria
Diop MC (ed.) (2002a) La société Sénégalaise entre le local et le global. Paris: Karthala
Diop MC (ed.) (2002b) Le Sénégal contemporain. Paris: Karthala
Diop MC (ed.) (2002c) Le Sénégal à l’heure de l’information. Technologies et société.
Paris: Karthala
Diop MC (ed.) (2004) Gouverner le Sénégal. Entre ajustement structurel et développement
durable. Paris: Karthala
Diop MC & Diouf M (1990) Le Sénégal sous Abdou Diouf. Etat et société. Paris: Karthala
Gladstone A (1980) Syndicat, croissance et développement. Travail et Société 5(1): 55–76
Lachaud JP (1987) Restructuration des entreprises publiques et les ajustements sur le marché
du travail au Sénégal: Des possibilités à la mesure des expériences. Genève: Iies

Martens G (1982) Le syndicalisme en Afrique noire d’expression française de 1945 à
1960. Numéro spécial de Syndicalisme et Développement, BREDE: 61
Martens G (1983) Révolution ou participation: Syndicats et partis politiques au
Sénégal. Le Mois en Afrique N° 205–206, 209–210, 211–212 et 213–214
Meynaud J & Salah-Bey A (1963) Le syndicalisme Africain. Evolution et perspectives.
Paris: Payot
Ndiaye AI (1997) Les syndicats sénégalais face aux réformes économiques et politiques
des années 80. Revue Sénégalaise de Sociologie 1: 61–78
Ndiaye AI (2002) Le partenariat social en question. Vers de nouvelles relations de
travail? In MC Diop (ed.) La société Sénégalaise entre le local et le global. Paris:
Karthala
Ndiaye AI & Tidjani B (1995) Mouvements ouvriers et crise économique. Les syndicats
Sénégalais face à l’ajustement structurel. Dakar: Codesria, Série monographies
Revue Politique Africaine (2004[N°96]) Sénégal 2000–2004, l’alternance et ses

contradictions. Paris: Editions Karthala
Tidjani B & Ndiaye AI (2001) Liberalization and labour regimes: The case of
Senegalese industrial relations. In B Beckman & LM Sachikonye (eds) Labour
regimes and liberalization: The restructuring of state–society relations in Africa.
Harare: University of Zimbabwe Publications
Zucarelli F (1970) Un parti politique africain: l’Union Progressiste Sénégalaise. Paris:
Lgdj

3
Disengagement from party politics: Achievements and

challenges for the Ghana Trades Union Congress
Emmanuel O Akwetey with David Dorkenoo
Disengagement from party politics

at its fourth quadrennial congress held in August 1992, the Ghana

Trades Union Congress (tuc) adopted a policy of non-association or non-
affiliation with political parties. Subsequently, the decision was incorporated
into the union federation’s constitution, subjecting future amendments to a
rigorous procedure. The decision, in the Ghanaian context at the time, was
effectively tantamount to disengaging from multiparty politics and forbid-
ding the formation of alliances with political parties.
However, it is important to note that this was not the first time that
the tuc had taken a decision not to participate actively in party politics or
form alliances with political parties. In February 1966 when the military
came to power, it ruled the country through the National Liberation
Council (nlc) and attacked all organisations which were in alliance with
the Convention People’s Party (cpp), with the exception of the tuc. The
nlc actively sought to divide the tuc by using Benjamin Bentum, then the
general secretary of the Agricultural Workers’ Union. Bentum was later
made the Secretary General of the tuc. One of the consequences of Bentum’s
collaboration with the nlc was that he steered the federation away from
political engagement, arguing that:
39

The first task which the trade union movement in Ghana shall tackle
is to transform itself into an organization that has meaning for the
workers, and responsibly advances their interests in the social and
economic spheres. The only form of organization that can do this with
any measure of success is one which draws its authority and its power
from workers themselves, and is responsive to their aims and aspira-
tions. In order to properly translate the workers’ wishes into action,
the movement must be self-reliant and should in particular stay away
from party politics, as the past has abundantly shown, and yet be free
to determine its own policy, which may, but does not necessarily, run
parallel to a particular political demand. (cited in Kraus 1979: 137)
Consequently, when the country was returned to civilian rule in 1979, the
tuc organised a congress in Kumasi and decided that the organisation would
not join or align itself with any political party. In spite of this, the tuc later
formed a political party, the Social Democratic Front (sdf), to contest the
1979 elections (Arthiabah & Mbiah 1995). The sdf lost miserably, winning
only 3 out of 140 parliamentary seats.
Decisions of quadrennial congresses of labour organisations such
as the tuc are in themselves very serious, as their enforcement tends to be
mandatory and therefore binding on the leadership and members of the
organisation. However, to take the further step of incorporating such a policy
in the constitution of the organisation virtually casts the decision in stone.
So, why did the tuc take such a decision? How did it hope to influence public
policy processes to the benefit of its members and society at large? To what
extent did it achieve its objectives in the decade after it made the decision?
Evidence of support for multiparty politics
Even though the tuc decision to disengage from party politics may appear
confusing, it was a well-thought-out decision when one takes into considera-
tion the time when it was made. It is important to differentiate between the

tuc calling for the restoration of multiparty democracy in Ghana, on the one
hand, and aligning itself with a political party or forming its own political
party to contest an election, on the other.
Trade unions are usually democratic and they function most effec-
tively under a democratic dispensation where institutions and other organs
of the state are functioning well. All affiliates of the tuc are required by
the constitution of the federation to organise their quadrennial delegate
conferences to elect their leaders prior to the tuc organising its quadrennial
congress. The strong democratic traditions of the unions predispose them to
champion the cause of democracy in the broader society. Hence, the tuc has
been one of the strongest advocates of democratisation in the country and
was widely perceived as a consistent proponent of constitutional and multi-

party politics in the country during the era of the military-led Provisional
National Defence Council. The following instances are some of the best
illustrations of this role by the federation:
◆◆ In the late 1980s the tuc was the first civil society organisation in
Ghana to advocate a return to constitutional rule, from the authori-
tarian military regime of the time. In the Ghanaian context, tuc’s
demand for constitutional rule was implicitly an endorsement for the
restoration of multiparty politics which had then been proscribed for
more than a decade.
◆◆ National opinion surveys on what form of politics was suitable for the
country overwhelmingly endorsed multiparty constitutional democ-
racy, precipitating the decision to draw up a new Constitution for the
democratic governance of the state.
◆◆ The tuc participated actively in the Consultative Assembly (an
appointed constituent assembly), which deliberated and endorsed the
proposals upon which the 1992 Constitution was based. The tuc did
this because it believed in multiparty democracy.
◆◆ The tuc canvassed and exhorted its members to vote in favour of the
Constitution in a national referendum held in April 1992 to endorse
or reject the Constitution.
Disengagement from party politics 41

◆◆ The promulgation of the Constitution subsequently unleashed legal
and political institutional reforms to enable the holding of multiparty
elections in the country for the first time in 12 years. The tuc took its
decision of non-alignment with political parties at the same time as
these important political developments were unfolding. What was the
rationale for the decision?
Rationale for disengagement
Among the several possible reasons for the tuc’s disengagement from party
politics, several significant points are worth mentioning. The tuc has a long
tradition of political engagement, beginning with its involvement in the anti-

colonial struggles through to the present day. According to Webster (2007),
trade unions’ historical engagement in politics is divided into three phases:
common struggle against colonialism, independence, and the introduction of
state-led projects with rapidly expanding market regulation which began in
the 1980s and early 1990s. These developments have seriously impacted on
the activities of trade unions.
Lessons from the past

Past relations with ruling political parties had taught the tuc that formal
political alliances could be beneficial in the short term and more damaging
in the long term. From 1957 to 1966 the tuc had a formal alliance with the
ruling cpp, a relationship that emanated from the collaboration of the two
actors in the anti-colonial and pro-independence struggles. Although this
nationalist and left-leaning political alliance yielded a post-colonial social
development contract, it had mixed effects on organised labour, particularly
because it was led by an authoritarian corporatist regime.
On the positive side, the tuc benefited from legislation that enabled
it to build its organisational strength and infrastructure in a manner that
centralised power and authority and conferred on the tuc the status of sole
representative of workers in Ghana. Adversely, however, the tuc lost both

its organisational independence and its political autonomy. Its leadership
was effectively co-opted into either directly supporting or acquiescing to the
implementation of government policies which its members were opposed to.
According to Arthiabah and Mbiah (1995), this relationship suffered consid-
erable strain as the government failed to deliver rapid economic growth and
social development, and rank and file members became alienated from their
leaders. In February 1966 the relationship formally ended when a right-wing
military junta deposed the cpp government in a bloody military coup.
Perceived as the unofficial opposition party in the post-cpp era, the
tuc suffered considerable organisational trauma under both elected and
unelected governments. For example, the elected government of the Progress
Party, whose members had been opposed to the cpp government, perceived
the tuc as the reincarnation of the deposed cpp government. So, it sought
to curtail the influence of the tuc over workers when the former became
critical of the government’s economic and social policies. When the govern-
ment failed to weaken the tuc through encouraging the establishment of a
rival pro-government trade union centre, it enacted a law in 1971 to proscribe
the tuc but could not implement it as the military intervened and deposed
the government.
Finally, close association with the two military governments in the past
had also taught the tuc that it risked undermining its organisational cohesion
and internal democracy. From 1972–79, a somewhat cosy relationship with
the military government of the period effectively demoralised the labour
movement, causing a deep cleavage between the co-opted leaders, on the one
hand, and the mass membership of the movement, on the other. Thereafter,
from 1982–87, the tuc had to defend its internal democracy as the military
government of the time sought to intervene in the internal governance and
election of trade union leaders at the district and national levels.

Organisational aspirations
Although the lessons of its past political relationships – be they formal/
informal alliances or opposition – informed the tuc’s policy to disengage
from party politics, the need to secure the tuc’s organisational cohesion and
autonomy was of paramount importance. At the time the tuc adopted the
policy of non-affiliation with political parties; it had successfully resisted and
overcome the threat that the military government had posed to its autonomy
and cohesion in the 1980s. The tuc had successfully restored its control
over the core trade union governance structures that the government had
attempted to take over by sponsoring rival candidates in internal union
elections. Thus when the opportunity presented itself in August 1992 for the
tuc to choose between consolidating its organisational gains or risking them

through association with political parties, it decided in favour of autonomy.
Underpinning its prioritisation of organisational autonomy over
engagement with political parties was also the aspiration of the tuc to
position itself to influence the government’s economic and social policy
decisions. Both past and incumbent leaders of the tuc had felt that
co-optation under the corporatist arrangements did not allow them signifi-
cant leverage over decision-making on these issues. On the contrary, such
relationships had essentially been experienced as constricting the public
space for articulating and voicing the views and interests of their members
and representing them effectively in public policy dialogue.
In a nutshell, the decision of the August 1992 quadrennial congress
to prohibit the tuc from entering into formal political relations with political
parties was an indication that organised labour had lost faith in the efficacy
of the authoritarian corporatist regimes of the past. In place of that faith
had emerged the conviction that the new Constitution had guaranteed
trade union rights and also expanded the legal and institutional scope for
organised labour and civil society organisations to participate as autonomous
actors in public policy formulation and implementation. By deciding to

disengage from party politics, the tuc was positioning itself to take effective
advantage of the emergent opportunities that enhanced autonomy under a
democratic political dispensation promised.
Prevailing challenges in the 1990s

Finally, at the time the tuc decided to disengage from party politics, it was
also confronted with challenges peculiar to the transition to democracy in
the 1990s. A few of the challenges will be mentioned here. The first was the
nature of the emergent political parties and the risks attendant to associating
or affiliating directly with them. The second was the rather dim prospect of
many of the emergent political parties transforming themselves into formi-
dable organisations that could win the national elections and pursue policies
that could help the tuc to fulfil its organisational aspirations.
In 1992 the incumbent military government transformed itself into
a political party, the National Democratic Congress, to contest the then
forthcoming presidential and parliamentary elections. Being the incumbent
government’s party, it was widely perceived to have the advantage of incum-
bency and the largesse of political patronage to help it win the elections.
Affiliation or association with that party was unthinkable for the tuc, given
the history of relations between that government and the federation and
the risks that any association could pose to the gains that the tuc had so far
made in recovering organisational control and autonomy.
None of the other parties were attractive either. The second-strongest
party that the tuc could have considered had originated from the Progress
Party, the party that had earlier attempted to proscribe the tuc through legis-
lation. The perception of risks persisted here as well. The third party, which
was an ensemble of cpp sympathisers and admirers of Kwame Nkrumah,
appeared to be the weakest. The successor government’s protracted political
harassment of the cpp had effectively diminished the stature of the party and
its capacity to function as a coherent organisation. Even if it had been a much
stronger party, the tuc would still have had problems joining, given the
record of its relations with the cpp from 1957 to 1966.

Earlier, in the late 1970s, the tuc had sponsored the formation of a
new political party with the aim of breaking the political stranglehold of the
old political groups in the country. Consequently, they co-founded the Social
Democratic Party, proclaiming a social democratic philosophy and manifesto
for developing the country. At the polls in August 1979, this party flopped
badly as the ordinary members of the tuc dumped it in favour of voting for the
conventional political parties. That experience appeared to have discouraged
the tuc from making another attempt at sponsoring a new political party.
But even if the tuc had defiantly proceeded to establish its own
party, it was well aware of the hazards that awaited it as an ‘opposition’
party. Being labelled as such posed another risk. It threatened to undermine
any influence that the tuc could muster in the public policy formulation
and implementation arena. In light of the prospect that the party of the
incumbent government might fully exploit the advantages of incumbency to
win the presidential and parliamentary elections, the tuc would have risked
being perceived more as part of the opposition and subsequently disregarded
in public policy decision-making under Ghana’s brand of ‘zero-sum’ or
‘winner-takes-all’ politics.
Having firmly decided not to engage in party politics, the tuc had
to confront the second challenge, namely, how to secure its organisational
autonomy, legitimacy and internal democracy, while positioning itself to
influence economic and social policy decisions. This time around it had to do
so in a different environment where political liberalisation and democratisa-
tion had expanded access to the public policy space and representation of
political and social interests beyond political parties and trade unions.
In the early 1990s, as democratisation progressed in the country, a new
legal and political–institutional framework was launched that guaranteed the
right of citizens to form organisations to pursue their interests and to partici-
pate in the formulation and implementation of development policy at all levels
of governance. The result was not only the explosive growth of development
and advocacy ngos but also their visibility in the public policy space.

While the tuc had been the most prominent civil society organisation
fighting structural adjustment policies and programmes in the 1980s, in the
1990s it had to share and cede segments of the public space to other develop-
ment and advocacy ngos. Furthermore, it had to engage in diverse public
forums, workshops and media spaces (private radio stations) as mechanisms
for inclusive policy dialogue and participation.
The question then is: how did the tuc engage politically in the
more expansive and different public policy spaces? How did it manage
relations with competitive ngos that were also development-oriented and
were advocating the adoption of economic and social policies that would
reduce poverty, grow the economy, create thousands of jobs and improve the
welfare of the people? In the post-1992 context, did the tuc succeed or fail in
pursuing its objectives without engagement with political parties? Where did
it succeed and where did it fail?
Limitations under the Labour Act
The Labour Act (No. 651 of 2003) imposes a serious limitation on organised
labour, prohibiting the latter from aligning itself with any political party in
the country. Specifically, section 82 of the Labour Act states that, ‘A trade
union or an employers’ organization shall not be subject to the control of or
be financially or materially aided by a political party.’
The provision prevents any political party from supporting any trade
union or employers’ organisation in the country. In other words, no political
party should control or provide financial and material support to trade
unions. The reason behind this is not clear. However, many believe that the
history of the relationship between organised labour and the Progress Party
in the late 1960s and early 1970s may provide a clue to government’s demand
that section 82 be included in the Labour Act.
This issue was seriously debated during the promulgation of the Act.
The government insisted on inserting the above provision into the law while
organised labour resisted it. The Ghana Employers’ Organisation did not

consider the provision to be any threat; it was also not keen on supporting
organised labour’s call for the removal of the provision. Organised labour
itself did not push too hard for its removal, however. The tuc’s own constitu-
tion had a provision preventing the organisation, as well as its top leadership,
from aligning with or addressing any political party’s rally. Probably, if
the tuc wants to take this issue up, it will have to debate the matter with
its members and then launch a campaign to get the government to repeal
section 82 of the Act.
Meanwhile, there were other provisions which the employers did not
want included in the law and organised labour had to rely on the support of
the government for those provisions to be accepted into law. These issues,
coupled with the provision in the tuc’s own constitution, did not help in the
fight to remove section 82 of the Act.
Alternative channels of influence
In the period after adopting the policy of non-engagement with political

parties, the tuc pursued its objectives by adopting alternative modes of
politics in the country. Increasingly, the tuc took a more consensual approach
to politics. It positioned itself as a professional organisation representing and
championing the interests of its members in the labour market and also in the
formulation of macroeconomic policies. In the early 1990s it started building
the capacities of its specialised departments, with the aim of providing
quality services, support and advice on key issues to its affiliates, as well as
influencing national socio-economic and political issues. To achieve this, the
organisation started recruiting young university graduates and providing
them with further training to manage the various specialised departments.
The tuc turned its Policy and Research Department into an
autonomous Labour and Policy Research Institute that can undertake
independent research on socio-economic issues with the aim of assisting
national policy formation processes and giving input into the national budget
(Adu-Amankwah 2006). In doing so, it consciously put greater emphasis on

industrial relations issues than on broader issues of social change. Issues
pertaining to wage negotiations, end-of-service benefits, recognition of
the collective bargaining rights of workers, and compliance with collective
bargaining agreements thus became more prominent on its agenda.
The National Tripartite Committee, which comprises organised
labour, the employers’ organisation and the government, meets periodically
to discuss issues affecting the world of work and, in particular, the fixing
of the national daily minimum wage. Even though the government has not
yet ratified the International Labour Organisation’s (ilo) Convention 144
on Tripartite Consultation, the Labour Act made provision for setting up a
tripartite committee with an office and staff to assist the committee’s work.
On several occasions the tuc took the government and employers to

court for failing to honour some of their obligations to workers as recognised
under existing collective bargaining agreements or conventions of the ilo.
To the extent that it found it necessary to engage in macroeconomic policy
dialogue or debates, its prime targets were not political parties per se but
rather the committees of Parliament and the country offices of the interna-
tional financial institutions, the World Bank and the International Monetary
Fund. The tuc submitted its analyses of the economic policies and annual
budgets of the government, made submissions to Parliament, especially the
finance committee, and published its views in the media, notably through
press conferences and press statements.
In response to the challenges posed by the emergence of development
and advocacy ngos to labour’s prominence, leadership and voice on broader
economic and social policy issues, the tuc adopted a strategy of collabora-
tion with these civil society organisations through issue-based networking
or coalition building. This alternative channel enabled the tuc not only to
advocate the formulation of more pro-poor economic and social policies,
but also to promote broad-based recognition of its autonomy, mandate,
legitimacy and status as the foremost and best-organised national civil

society organisation in the country. In fact, the tuc policies adopted at its last
quadrennial delegates congress include a provision to form alliances with
other civil society organisations championing similar objectives at any point.
Furthermore, the tuc is represented on several national bodies, the
most prominent being:
◆◆ the Public Utility Regulatory Commission;
◆◆ the National Development Planning Commission;
◆◆ the National Population Council;
◆◆ the Ghana Statistical Service;
◆◆ the Social Security and National Insurance Trust;
◆◆ the National Media Commission;
◆◆ the National Petroleum Authority.
Even though the tuc has not been able to assess the effectiveness of its
representation on these national boards of governors and how it has posi-
tively influenced national policies, it is believed that it has helped these
organisations, especially when making input into national policy processes.
This is because the tuc representation on these boards assists it to get access
to valuable information that can be used to influence national policy formula-
tion processes.
Achievements so far
So what has the tuc achieved through non-party political channels of

engagement in the politics of Ghana? The evidence is that it has made some
significant achievements but also faced major challenges. The greatest
achievements are outlined below.
First, the tuc has managed to get all the major political actors –
government, political parties, the employers’ association and international
financial institutions – to accept, recognise and respect its independence,
organisational autonomy and legitimacy. Probably few, if any, of the major
political and economic actors perceive the tuc today as an affiliate of any of

the political parties or see it to be ganging up with opposition political parties
to ‘sabotage’ the government. Accordingly, it has managed to relate rather
well to two different successive governments without attracting the intrusion
and struggles that characterised its relations with governments prior to the
August 1992 decision to disengage from party politics. Unlike in the past,
annual May Day rallies have increasingly become favoured labour events of
the president, Cabinet ministers and other senior government officials.
Second is the issue of whether or not widespread recognition has
translated into the strengthening of internal democracy, organisational
coherence and membership of the tuc. This is a difficult area of assess-
ment as the tuc’s database is weak on these issues and more systematic and
empirical work is required to update existing records and generate new data.
The absence of a strong database notwithstanding, there are indications
that internal democracy is improving, albeit slowly. According to Britwum
(2003, 2007), there are still many changes that the tuc has to grapple with
when it comes to issues of internal democracy, both between the tuc and
its national affiliates and between the national unions and their members.
The old practice of co-option of national and influential leaders of organised
labour into government or political party positions may not have disappeared
completely but it is not as visible as it used to be.
The extent to which the lack or invisibility of co-optation has strength-
ened the cohesion of the tuc and its affiliates and the trade union leaders
and their members is an empirical question. What is evident, however, is
that since the adoption of the policy of disengagement from party politics,
the tuc has been able to manage splinter tendencies rather well. Although
it can no longer claim to be the sole representative of organised workers in
the country, the tuc is widely recognised as the lead central organisation that
also exercises the mandate of convening all other trade union centres (about
five such centres exist in the country today) in policy dialogue and negotia-
tions with the government.

Third, the tuc has gained recognition as the major labour market
actor in tripartite negotiations, especially on setting annual minimum wage
levels. So far, it appears that the tuc has been relatively effective in control-
ling wildcat strikes among its members, unlike the other organised labour
centres such as the Ghana National Association of Teachers, the Ghana
Registered Nurses Association, and the Civil Servants Association. When it
comes to labour market issues, the tuc has become stronger than govern-
ment and employers due to the capacities that its Labour and Policy Research
Institute currently possesses. Hence, the tuc prefers using dialogue and
negotiations in pushing forward its positions. The tuc policy bulletins have
become another medium through which labour’s positions on national
issues are channelled to government and other stakeholders (Baah 2005).

Fourth, the tuc has been able to engage young talented graduates to
assist the organisation in implementing the policies adopted at its quadren-
nial delegates congresses. These professionals have contributed to raising the
image of the tuc both locally and internationally.
Fifth, the tuc has also developed strong relations with the University
of Cape Coast (ucc) and Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and
Technology. Through its collaboration with the ucc it has developed three
major academic programmes. Two of the programmes, namely a Diploma
in Labour Studies and a Postgraduate Certificate in Labour Policy Studies,
are currently hosted at the Centre for Development Studies at ucc. The
third course, a Certificate in Labour Studies, is currently being hosted at
the Ghana Labour College, the education department of the tuc. With
the introduction of these programmes, the tuc is not only contributing to
building the capacities of its members but is also contributing to developing
the human resource base of Ghana and Africa as a whole, since some of the
participants in these courses come from other African countries.

Sixth, the tuc has succeeded in pushing the government to place
the issue of employment on its agenda (Tsekpo 2005). In this regard, the
government initiated the National Youth Employment Programme, which is
providing jobs for unemployed youth in the country.
Finally, the tuc has effectively positioned itself as the leader of the
broader civil society advocacy networks that are engaging the government
and international financial institutions on issues of poverty reduction, and
social and economic development programmes. The tuc’s policy of non-
engagement with party politics appears to be widely endorsed by virtually all
the credible civil society advocacy organisations in the country. Few, if any, of
these organisations are known to engage political parties seriously on issues
of public policy choices. Besides, both the tuc and the members of these
civil society networks and coalitions tend to target Parliament rather than the
government – that is, the executive presidency – as the prime object of their
advocacy activities.
Drawing on the unity resulting from the policy of non-engagement
with political parties, the tuc has increasingly gained recognition as the
organisation that has the capability to lead civil society protest against neo-
liberal policy agendas, such as the privatisation of water, state-owned banks,
and unbridled liberalisation in the country. It is no coincidence that the tuc
led the network of civil society organisations that engaged in the participa-
tory review of structural adjustment programmes in Ghana from 1997–2001.
It also convenes the civil society networks campaigning for fair trade and
against the privatisation of water and state-owned banks, as well as mining
policies formulated to attract direct foreign investment.

Persisting challenges
Granting that the tuc’s policy of disengagement has yielded the achieve-
ments outlined above, to what extent have these achievements translated
into the tuc’s greater influence in the making of public policy choices and
determining the economic and social development trajectory of the country?
Some preliminary observations would be instructive.
It does not appear, from the evidence available, that the tuc has
become significantly influential in the making of macroeconomic and
social policy decisions in the country. Whatever influence it has gained in
representing workers’ interests and securing their rights in the industrial
relations domain appears to have impacted only marginally on the choice and
implementation of macroeconomic policies. So far the tuc, together with
the civil society coalitions it leads, has not been able to alter the dominant
neo-liberal macroeconomic and social policy paradigm that has guided the
public policy choices of government in the past two decades and more. Thus,
while it is true that in the era of poverty reduction strategy papers the public
policy process has become more open and participatory, the influence of civil
society groups has remained marginal.
Both the tuc and the civil society advocacy networks that it leads have
participated in the formulation of Ghana’s poverty reduction strategy papers
since 2001. However, their participation has not prevented the government’s
pursuit of the policy to privatise public utility services such as water, elec-
tricity and state-owned banks that respond to the needs of small and medium
enterprises. Spirited protests against the privatisation of water and electricity
have only succeeded in stalling the implementation of those policies rather
than abrogating them completely.
The lack of influence is also evident in the failure of the tuc and civil
society coalitions to effectively promote the adoption of alternative macroeco-
nomic and social policies that could promote employment (job creation), raise
incomes, and restore and expand industrialisation to the levels required to
sustain economic growth and fair trade for locally manufactured products.

That failure is evident in the unbridled liberalisation of access to the local
market, spurring an aggressive globalisation of the national economy and
a steep decline in agriculture and industrial production. Importation of
relatively cheap goods to meet virtually every need has displaced workers in
both the formal and informal sectors.
Furthermore, the lack of influence is also evident in the failure of
the tuc and civil society coalitions to influence the government not to sign
the Economic Partnership Agreement (epa). Even though they succeeded
initially in getting the government to state publicly that it would not sign
the agreement, when the European Union put its lobbying machinery
into motion, it managed to convince the government to reverse its original
position and to sign the epa.

Another major challenge confronting the tuc is its need to initiate
discussion among rank and file members about its disengagement from party
politics. This should be preceded by comprehensive research into the effects
of the tuc’s disengagement policy. At the same time it should be preparing
itself to initiate the process of repealing section 82 of the Labour Act, which
places restrictions on the tuc forming or joining any political party.
The tuc has managed to draw young professionals into the organisa-
tion and their contribution has boosted the organisational capacity of the
federation. However, many of these young people are becoming dissatisfied
with their working conditions. The sooner the tuc leadership starts paying
attention to their concerns, the better it will be for the organisation. Failing
to do so may result in the tuc losing these young professionals. The tuc has
also so far failed to aggressively recruit more members to revamp its sagging
numerical strength.
Strengthening the internal democracy of both the tuc and its
affiliates is crucial to the survival of the organisation. A lack of internal
democracy resulted in the disaffiliation of one of the tuc’s biggest affiliates,
the Industrial and Commercial Workers Union. This dented the image
of the federation. Hence, it needs to embark on education programmes to
strengthen internal democracy.

Finally, the tuc does not appear to have been more influential in
getting the government to change policies that it considers pertinent to
delivering on the ruling political party’s manifesto. A case in point is the
passage of the National Health Insurance Bill aimed at expanding access
to healthcare and improving the quality of health services to the poor. This
had been a major campaign promise of the ruling political parties ahead
of the December 2000 election. To finance the scheme, the government
unilaterally decided that 2.5 per cent of workers’ contributions to the national
pension scheme should be allocated to the financing of the National Health
Insurance System. The tuc protested and called for dialogue and negotia-
tions on the issue but failed to prevent the government from using its
overwhelming majority in Parliament to enact the National Health Insurance

Act in 2003. This is not the only case where the tuc failed to influence the
modification of policies pertinent to the delivery of the manifesto of the
ruling political party (Adu-Amankwah 2006).
Conclusion
So, back to the questions that spurred the discussion in this chapter: to
what extent has the policy of the tuc to disengage from party politics in
the current fourth republic of Ghana been beneficial to the organisation?
The answers presented in this chapter clearly suggest that the outcomes so
far have been mixed. There have been both achievements and challenges.
However, these do not portray the tuc as having succeeded yet in becoming
a formidable force of influence on macroeconomic and social policy choices
and politics in Ghana.
At the Executive Board of the tuc held on 18–19 December 2007,
questions were raised about the need to revisit the tuc’s disengagement
policy. Even though the issue was not given serious attention, it pointed to
the concern of some affiliates at the tuc’s inability to influence important
government policies to the benefit of its members. It is thus not inconceivable
that the tuc may in the near future revisit its disengagement policy.

References
Adu-Amankwah K (2006) A realistic income and pension policy: The role of Ghana
tuc. Ghana Trades Union Congress Policy Bulletin 2(1): 18–23
Arthiabah PB & Mbiah HT (1995) Half a century of toil, trouble and progress: The history
of the Trades Union Congress of Ghana. Accra: Gold Type Press Publications
Baah A (2005) Policies and employment, income and living wage and the deregulation
of the petroleum sector. Ghana Trades Union Congress Policy Bulletin 1(1): 3–7
Britwum A (2003) Trade Union Congress, and internal democracy. Unpublished
research report
Britwum A (2007) Ghana tuc: Sixty years of promoting workers’ rights. Unpublished
research report
Kraus J (1979) The political economy of industrial relations in Ghana. In UG
Damachi, HD Seibel & L Trachtman (eds) Industrial relations in Africa. New York:
St Martin’s Press
Tsekpo A (2005) Employment: The missing link in Ghana’s macro-economic policy
framework. Ghana Trades Union Congress Policy Bulletin 1(1): 12–15
Webster E (2007) Trade unions and political parties in Africa: New alliances, strate-
gies and partnerships. Briefing Paper No. 3/2007 on summary of debates during
the conference Trade Unions and Politics: Africa in a Comparative Context, 21–22
July, Johannesburg


4
The failure of Nigeria’s Labour Party
Björn Beckman and Salihu Lukman
Introduction
political parties in nigeria and in much of the world lack ideological

substance and organised popular democratic roots.1 Much of the time they
are shifting alliances of individual ‘big men’ with claims to territorial control
based on patronage and hierarchy. Unions therefore, rightly, see themselves
as more credible representatives of popular democratic interests and they
aspire to translate this into real influence on the political process. Different
avenues are explored in an effort to make a political impact, including direct
lobbying, participation in political alliances, the formation of union-based
political parties, and the mobilisation of wider coalitions in civil society.
This chapter looks at a recent effort by Nigeria’s major trade union centre,
the Nigeria Labour Congress (nlc), to establish a labour party. An effort in
the late 1980s was blocked by the military regime of Ibrahim Babangida.
Largely as a result of union support for MK Abiola’s claim to the presidency
in the aborted 1993 election, the nlc was banned by the military in 1994 and
was only reconstituted after the demise of the Sani Abacha dictatorship in
1997. Since the return to civil rule there have been repeated confrontations
with the government, especially over the price of petroleum products. On
each occasion labour has been able to draw on wide popular support. Its
campaigns have been met with state violence and the government has sought
to undercut its political role through new labour legislation. A new labour
party was launched in 2004. This chapter examines its failure. Why was the
nlc unable to translate its undoubted political clout into party politics?
59

Nlc: Rising from the ashes
The nlc was established in 1978 by a military government, which dissolved

existing labour federations, banned key leaders from holding office, outlawed
affiliation to international labour centres, and instituted a new, unitary
national union structure, based on a monopoly of representation and compul-
sory deduction of membership dues by employers (Andrae & Beckman 1998;
Hashim 1994). All existing unions were compelled to dissolve and reorganise
into scheduled industrial unions. While many union leaders opposed the
intervention, most agreed to cooperate once the new state-imposed union
structure was in place, seeking to turn it to the advantage of the labour
movement. Some spectacular achievements at an early stage, such as the

1981 general strike over the minimum wage, seemed to confirm the scope
that may have been opened in this respect. The arrangement was questioned,
first of all by the state and employers who felt that the new ‘corporatist’ idea
had misfired; what was supposed to have been an effective means of control
seemed actually to have strengthened the position of organised labour.
Within the labour movement it was questioned by those who argued that the
1978 ‘labour pact’ had caused a fatal dependence on the state which, in their
view, explained the failure of the labour movement to protect the interests
of its members and its wider popular constituency. However, the dominant
view within the labour leadership was that the pact had provided a basis
for organisational cohesion, union professionalism and financial strength,
without which effective resistance would have been even more difficult.
Without this statutory support, it was argued, the labour movement would
not have been able to survive the repeated attempts by the state to suppress it.
In the early and mid-1980s, the leadership of the nlc is thought to
have successfully asserted itself in the face of deepening crisis and adjust-
ment. In the latter part of the decade and in the early 1990s, however, it
became increasingly entangled with the devious transition politics of the
Babangida military regime, leading in the mid-1990s to the dissolution and
suppression of the nlc during the intensified military dictatorship of Sani

Abacha (Andrae & Beckman 1998; Beckman 1995). When Abacha died under
mysterious circumstances in June 1998, a seriously discredited military
establishment was obliged to effectuate a swift transition to ‘civilian rule’.
Not surprisingly, the democratic content of the process that saw the second
coming of General Obasanjo was seriously questioned. There was widespread
relief, however, that the nightmare scenario evoked by an Abacha-style transi-
tion did not materialise. The relief was also great in the labour movement.
Although the defunct nlc had been roundly condemned since its collapse in
1994, the movement had at least survived the ordeal of the Abacha period. A
national congress was convened and a new national executive was elected in
February 1999, determined to impress itself on the process of transition to
civilian rule.
The new labour leadership seemed committed to asserting its claim to
re-establish the nlc as a leading force of economic, social and political trans-
formation. The first years of Adams Oshiomhole’s tenure as the president
of the revived nlc saw a spate of spectacular action, including a nationwide
struggle to enforce a new, radically increased national minimum wage, espe-
cially at the level of individual states whose newly elected civilian governors
often put up fierce opposition, claiming that the new wages were incompat-
ible with the state budgets. Even more spectacular in terms of political
confrontation and media coverage was the campaign against the attempts
by the federal government to ‘deregulate’ the national petroleum market,
allowing for a drastic increase in the prices of local petrol and kerosene,
products that are central in the domestic economy. Deregulation of the oil
sector was a key demand of the World Bank and the International Monetary
Fund, which had become deeply involved with the reform programme of the
Obasanjo regime, both as creditors and policy-makers.
In May 2000, the government signed an agreement on resumed
lending with the World Bank and a few days later a 50 per cent increase in
the price of petrol was announced. The nlc declared a general strike and
insisted that no serious discussions about possible future increases could
be entertained until the government had first restored the original price, as
The failure of Nigeria’s Labour Party 61

it had not been consulted in the first place. The strike action met with wide
national support and was joined by market women and other popular groups,
causing a virtual paralysis of economic life in major cities and the transport
system generally. After eight days of strikes, a compromise was reached and
a modest increase was agreed. The success of the nlc-led campaign was
sensational. However, the international finance institutions were committed
to pushing through deregulation and the nlc continued to resist, claiming
that it had the support of ‘all patriotic Nigerians and the mass of our people’.2
The dramatic confrontations over minimum wages, fuel prices and
deregulation served to boost the public image of the labour movement.
Its political standing was enhanced by the problematic legitimacy of the
Obasanjo political order. Although the demise of the Abacha regime and the
swift transition to civilian rule had been widely welcomed, the democratic
credentials of the new government and its parliamentary institutions were
weak. There had been no credible constitutional basis for the transition,
including the process of party formation, the system of elections, and the
division of power and responsibilities between the different layers of govern-
ment, local, state and federal. The Nigerian federal system was widely
challenged, especially from those parts, like the South West and the oil-
producing states in the Niger Delta, which felt that they had been particularly
badly treated under the military. For a wide range of minority groups the
power game in Nigeria was seen to be excessively centred on the three major
national groups, the Hausa, the Yoruba and the Ibo, even though the so-called
minorities, when taken together, constituted the largest population group.
The political parties that emerged as part of the transition had short
notice to get organised and were loosely assembled groupings of aspiring
individual politicians, some with credible local constituencies and others
with sufficient money to buy themselves into party caucuses. Very few were
part of any cohesive network or committed to any policy except for a vague
communal agenda. The Nigerian party system had in the past had strong
streaks of unprincipled patronage politics, but party cohesion and claims
to representation had been further weakened by the repeated interventions

and manipulations of successive military rulers. The party structure of the
post-Abacha transition was the least cohesive, least principled and most
unpredictable in terms of policy commitments in the history of Nigerian
party politics. It reinforced a long-standing self-perception within the labour
movement that it constituted the most significant national social force which
could offer political leadership.
The making of a labour party
By mid-2000, the nlc set in motion a process that seemed to aim at building
a new political force. The immediate purpose was to promote a ‘civil society
network in defence of democracy’ (nlc 2001), but the long-term objective

was to establish a new, broad-based Nigerian political platform capable of
providing a real alternative to the barely democratic and highly illegitimate
and ineffectual political order. The nlc secured financial support from
the European Union (eu), which was administered by the Friedrich Ebert
Stiftung, a major German, pro-labour institution close to the German
Social Democratic Party. A separate secretariat was set up, headed by Salihu
Lukman, a unionist on loan from the textile workers’ union, the same
union from which the new nlc president had been drawn. After a series of
preparatory meetings on a regional basis which debated and came up with
policy proposals, including the issue of labour and politics, a Civil Society
Pro-Democracy Summit was convened at Agura Hotel, Abuja, in February
2001. A policy on labour and politics had been discussed at a meeting of the
nlc leadership (the National Administrative Council), providing an authorita-
tive basis for negotiating with other civil society groups.3 The purpose of the
Agura Summit was to create a platform for interacting politically with ‘civil
society’ while providing a basis for an nlc-led process of party formation
(SOZ Ejiofor interview). 4
Side by side with the planning of the civil society pro-democracy
network was the agenda-setting process of the nlc. Six Zonal Conferences
reported to the Central Working Committee of the Congress which met

at Benin in Edo State in October 2001, where it was argued that Nigeria’s
‘working and progressive forces and organisations’ have to take ‘their
political destiny in their hands’. In the past, the labour cause had been
betrayed by the existing ‘non-labour’ parties that had claimed support for
minimum wages and social welfare. Once in power, however, they had
revealed their true, ruling class commitments. ‘Nigeria’s progressive and
popular masses now desire to be involved in political power on the basis of
their own authentic programmes and aspirations.’ They will no longer rely
on ‘surrogate third parties’ but will themselves ‘seek to be the government in
power’. ‘Nigerian workers desire a “mass-based, people and workers-oriented
and humanistic” political party’ (cwc 2001). The challenge is to find a way of
combining union autonomy with a legitimate need to exercise some degree

of control over the new party that ensures that it remains ‘mass-based, people
and workers-oriented and humanistic’. Unions were advised to play a leading
role in the constitution of the party while keeping their own organisations
separate and autonomous. A team, ‘accountable to the organs of the nlc’,
should be set up to engage other civil society organisations and negotiate a
political programme, including specific party objectives, economic policy
orientation, and a programme of activities. Union leaders who went for party
offices would have to resign their positions. Simultaneously, the success of
the party depended on the active support of the union leaders.5
The new Labour Party held its inaugural convention in the Women
Development Centre, Abuja, on 28 February 2004. It was an impressive
occasion with over 1 000 accredited delegates from the 36 states of Nigeria,
the Federal Capital Territory and the party’s interim secretariat, as glowingly
reported in the Labour Factsheet by Tunde Adebola (2004), a pseudonym for
Baba Aye, a national auditor of the new party. The decision to form a party
was actually taken at a meeting of the National Executive Committee (nec)
of the nlc held in Bauchi in 2002. A committee was elected, chaired by SOZ
Ejiofor, the general secretary of the union ‘Amalgamated’ and, before the
merger, of the politically dominant Civil Service Technical Union. Ejiofor
was a key mover behind the party project. The secretary was AA Salam, the

general secretary of the National Union of Local Government Employees
(nulge), the local government workers’ union, also an old hand in the party
ventures of the nlc. He had been the general secretary of the first Labour
Party that was established in 1989 and which later was forcibly made to
merge into the Social Democratic Party that was decreed by Babangida.
The decision in Bauchi was a rushed affair, according to Lukman who
participated, without a substantive discussion. The rush was prompted by
the need to meet the deadline for the registration of new political parties
ahead of the 2003 general elections. Most annoyingly, according to Lukman,
the nlc president had insisted that the members of the nlc secretariat who
had played a key role in preparing for the party should not be part of the
committee. It should be for unionists alone.

Registration was a fierce legal battle (Jamilu Inusa interview). The
Independent National Electoral Commission (inec), the public agency
charged with organising elections, first refused to register the party because
‘the government had made up its mind that it only wanted a certain number’.
The future Labour Party teamed up with senior lawyer and seasoned opposi-
tion politician, Gani Fawhinmi, who had established his own party, to fight
out the registration issue in court. As the court finally pronounced in favour
the parties, inec was compelled to recognise 27 new ones. Preparations
for registration had been hectic. A key condition was that an aspiring party
had to have party offices in the states. The country had been zoned and
contacts had been basically channelled through the State Councils of the
nlc, that is, the joint organisations made up of the representatives of the
industrial unions operating in a particular state of the federation. Alhaji
Umaru (interview), a senior deputy general secretary of the National Union
of Textile, Garment and Tailoring Workers of Nigeria, proudly recalled the
effort that he had personally made (‘at considerable personal expense’) to
have offices established in all the states of the North-West Zone, his own area
of responsibility. Inec was expected to make random visits to check if the
party was actually established in the individual states before contemplating
registration. In the South-West, in Ondo, the nlc had written to its State

Council and asked it to set up the party, according to Baba Aye (interview)
who was stationed in the state for his union, Medical and Health Workers,
and who took an active part in establishing the new party structures.
‘Amalgamated’, SOZ Ejiofor’s union, played a major role in promoting the
party in Ondo. As the chair of the Lagos State Council of the nlc on his
return from Ondo, Baba Aye was also in a position to observe closely the
intense party activities in that state.
The new leadership of the party met in the aftermath of the February
2004 convention. A major controversy concerned how the new party was
going to fund itself. Some felt the party should be ready to receive funding
‘from anybody’. Others felt that it should only be from sources sympathetic
to the party’s ideological commitments (Baba Aye interview). The problem,

according to Jamilu Inusa (interview), an administrative officer of the party,
was that it had been greatly disadvantaged by the late registration and the
outright hostility of inec. The electoral impact in 2003 was marginal. The
party also contested the local government elections of March 2004 with little
success. The party in power in respective states, including the federal ruling
party, controlled the outcome and used the local government positions to
reward their own followers.
Were the unions not in a position to provide for the funding of the
party? Although the nlc State Councils had played a major role in estab-
lishing it in individual states, this is where their financial commitments
seem to have stopped. Unions were prohibited by the Trade Union Act of
1978 from making political contributions. While financial pledges had been
made by the unions, ‘when we came back to them they kept referring to
their constitutions’ (Jamilu Inusa interview). Instead, the new executive
decided to ‘embark on an aggressive membership drive’ (Baba Aye interview).
The problem, however, is that Nigerian political parties have no tradition
of collecting membership dues from ordinary members. On the contrary,
people were accustomed to parties bringing ‘gifts’ when they came to woo
the electorate for support! The more credible a party or candidate, the more
substantial the gift. Realising this, the party decided to ‘play down the issue

of membership dues in order not to scare the members away’. Only a few
conscientious people, mostly unionists, would be paying (Jamilu Inusa
interview). While more people did so in Lagos, according to SOZ Ejiofor
(interview 060131), not even union members took the paying of membership
dues on an individual basis to the party seriously, as they were used to the
check-off system for paying union dues, that is, deductions from their pay by
employers. What other avenues were available? Jamilu claimed that in some
instances, state governments had made money available. In fact, a major
allegation against the party chairman was that he was making approaches to
individual governors and other leaders in order to make them contribute to
the party. It was even suggested that he held onto the ‘Party Certificate’ – the
certificate of its registration with inec – as personal property that could be

‘mortgaged’ in the negotiations with other parties and potential funders
(Umaru interview).
The 2004 party convention elected Barrister Dan Nwuanyawun, a
former president of the National Union of Banks, Insurance and Financial
Institutions Employees (nubifie), as party chairman. Adams Oshiomhole,
the nlc president, had favoured Dan, who was considered ‘socially active
although not ideological’. He had left nubifie in the mid-1990s, according
to Baba Aye (interview), ‘while being under investigation over allegations
of major misappropriations’. In 2003 he contested a senatorial seat on the
ticket of the governing party, and lost woefully. While SOZ Ejiofor, the chief
ideologue behind the party project, was resentful of the choice of party
chairman, he felt obliged to ‘abide by [the] collective decision’ because the
nlc could not afford a split (SOZ Ejiofor interview 060131).
Even more eyebrows were raised at the inaugural party convention
over the choice of general secretary, AA Salam, the former general secretary
of nulge. On one level his appointment was quite in order: he had been the
secretary of the committee set up by the nec in Bauchi in 2002 to prepare for
the new party. The choice on that occasion may in turn have been motivated
by his previous experience as the general secretary of the Labour Party that
was set up in 1989. In the context of the politics of regional balance and

of inec regulations in this respect, Salam was also useful as a northern
candidate in a political landscape that tended to be dominated by activists
from the south. The problem, however, was that he had just been thrown out
by his own union. According to Jamilu Inusa (interview), the party adminis-
trator, Salam had been seriously entangled in the internal succession politics
of his union, resulting ultimately in his being indicted and retired. The lead-
ership of the Labour Party was thus landed with a chairman and a general
secretary, its two key office bearers, both of whom had been discarded and
humiliated by their respective unions.
A stillborn party
The Labour Party failed to take off, despite the long tradition of Nigeria’s
trade unions engaging in ‘partisan politics’ and despite the major investment
made in the process, both by experienced key local players and by hopeful
foreign agencies, like the Friedrich Ebert Stiftung. ‘It is a quagmire, it is
party in theory but not in practice,’ said SOZ Ejiofor (interview 060131), the
union leader who had most energetically pushed for the party idea. The
nlc leadership was disturbed by the ‘apathy of the Labour Party’ and strong
criticisms were voiced at a nlc ‘Leadership Retreat’ in Lokoja in April 2005.
It was even suggested that the executive of the party should be dissolved
(Umaru interview). Salam was summoned to a nec meeting of the nlc
in December 2005 and confronted: ‘What have you done since you were
elected?’ The choice of Dan as party chairman was a big mistake. He was
selected for the party job, according to Umaru, because he was believed to
be well connected and capable of bringing important people into the party.
But he had achieved nothing in that respect. At most, he had made rounds
to the state governors to collect money (Umaru interview). According to
Adams Oshiomhole (interview), the nlc had misjudged the party leadership:
‘They were thought to be motivated but they use[d] the party as a basis for
negotiating with other parties and with wealthy individuals who are asked to

put money into the organisation.’ Most embarrassingly, Oshiomhole, the nlc
president who had supposedly been a driving force behind establishing the
party, declared at one point that he would not contest on the platform of the
Labour Party when standing for governorship. SOZ Ejiofor (interview 060131)
was not surprised: ‘It would be crazy for Adams to stand on the platform of
[the] Labour Party if he wishes to become the governor of Edo State.’ Not only
is the party weak nationally but it is particularly weak in that state. According
to the party office, it would have made a lot of difference if the party had
had the full support of the nlc leadership. Oshiomhole, in Jamilu’s view
(interview), ‘has such a standing with the masses who worship him’. Yemisi
Ilesanmi (interview), an assistant national secretary of the party and a leader
of the Women’s Wing, complained that there was not even any money for
holding meetings of the party executive: ‘If that is the case let us just close
the party!’ She was bitter about the leaders who wanted to ‘ride freely on the
good name of the nlc’. In her opinion, the failure of the Labour Party was a
disgrace to the nlc but in particular to the progressives who had struggled to
have it established.
Party activity at the state level seems to have collapsed. The formal
party structures that were put in place were temporary and were supposed
to be replaced by elected bodies. But no elections were held! The party was
represented at the state level by caretaker committees (Umaru interview).
Baba Aye (interview) tells the story of Ondo State, where he was involved in
setting up the party and where it now, in his opinion, ‘only exists on paper’.
In his view, the picture is bleak all over. The problem, according to him, is
the lack of party organisation. Even the State Councils of the nlc take no
interest. Yemisi Ilesanmi (interview), the party executive, suggested that each
of them should at least be prepared to provide a room for the Labour Party in
their buildings so that it could be used as a party office. The unions should
be able to pay for one party officer in each state.

Who killed the Labour Party?
Something went terribly wrong. Who or what killed the Labour Party? Why?
Was it deliberate or by mistake? Was it a ‘blunder’? Did someone have a
vested interest in the Labour Party not taking off? Was it a question of the
wrong steps being taken or was it that the conditions were not right? Was it
a bad idea in the first place? What was a labour party supposed to be good
for? Our interest in the failure of the nlc to put a credible labour party on the
ground is not necessarily because we think that Nigeria ought to have such
a party (We do!) or because we believe that it can make a major contribution
to the advancement of popular democracy (We believe it can!). Our primary
concern at this point is to understand what the failure can tell us about the
preconditions for labour’s venturing into politics, not just at the level of the
politics of the nlc itself but within the wider social context in which it was
supposed to be operating.
Who wanted a labour party in the first place? The nlc ‘tradition’ was
clearly divided. On the one hand, there existed a strong commitment to a
party. The national president, on the other hand, seems to have held a more
ambiguous position. He had been largely hostile to the earlier party project
that resulted in the party being absorbed by Babangida’s Social Democratic
Party. As late as February 2000, when the first Congress of South African
Trade Unions–nlc summit took place, the official position of the nlc was
‘non-partisan’. It is likely that a more ‘partisan’ urge was boosted by the
success of the anti-petrol price campaign and the groundswell of popular
support that it engendered. But the ambiguity remained. What was the party
actually expected to achieve? On the one hand, there was a desire to engage
the real movements on the ground with the intent of forming an ideological
alternative to an unprincipled and corrupt ‘political class’; on the other hand,
there was a concern with linking up with powerful individuals – people with
proven influence – in order to access the corridors of power.
Does this ambiguity explain the failure? Alternative options were
certainly not properly discussed and confronted. One area of ambiguity
was in the nature of the relationship between the party project and the

labour–civil society network. Although the nlc was specific that the network
would do the basic groundwork for the formation of a political party, it was
also anxious to keep the two separate. According to SOZ Ejiofor (interview
060202), they were ‘two different issues entirely’. Moreover, not much of a
role was assigned to the network in the actual formation of the new party,
which was treated as a question for the nlc alone. The process of integrating
the party and the civil society agendas was discontinued after its high
point in the Agura Summit of 2001. The elaborate structures that had been
planned were abandoned. Was it simply that the ‘project’ had come to an end
and that the eu funds had been exhausted? This is not likely. If there had
been an organisational commitment on both sides to pursue an integrated
project, funds were likely to have been found locally. A more likely explana-
tion is that the nlc leadership wished to keep ‘civil society’ out because it
wanted to have the party project under its own control. The effort to draw a
strict line between the nlc, as an organ of the unions, and the political party,
as an organ of the people, was obscured by its tendency to sideline ‘civil
society’ and to go it alone on the party front.
But the ambiguity does not stop there. Despite its direct involvement
in the registration exercise and the central role played by the nlc State
Councils, the nlc was not prepared to put significant resources into the
party project or to prompt the industrial unions to do so. Furthermore, the
recruitment of leaders suggests that the nlc did not take its own creation
seriously, although the nlc president (Oshiomhole interview) is emphatic in
rejecting such a suggestion: ‘Why would we bother to set up a Labour Party
if we were not serious?’ According to him, the nlc was intent on having a
well-functioning party. The leadership problem, he said, had taken them by
surprise. The person proposed as the party chairman ‘seemed to be an ideal
person with plenty of time’. It was also an advantage that he was a trained
lawyer, although Oshiomhole later agreed that ‘it was a big mistake’.
The return to civil rule and the successful political interventions
of the nlc had created favourable conditions for the party project. The
major resources placed at the disposal of civil society networking by the

eu–Friedrich Ebert Stiftung project reinforced the ‘opening’ provided by the
political conjuncture. The explicit agenda of the project was also to prepare
the ground for wider political alliances and interventions. The impression is
given that the momentum was aborted by the internal divisions related to the
ambiguities of the process. The contest for control over the new Labour Party
was won by those who had the least historical commitment to the forming
of a party. Both the ‘internal’ pro-party tradition and the Left contenders in
civil society were sidelined. Of course, the involvement of the eu and the
Friedrich Ebert Stiftung was itself an important new development. Before
1999, the nlc had been officially opposed to jointly sponsored political
projects of this type, including those of the International Confederation of
Free Trade Unions. In the new atmosphere, the us$1 million grant brought in
by the eu project was celebrated as a major achievement.
It was certainly a problem that the process leading up to the formation
of the new Labour Party was ‘project driven’. This may be compared with a
‘membership-driven’ process or one where the grievances or real issues faced
by the cadres play a decisive role. The half-hearted nature of the political
commitment may have generated its own uncertainties. If a venture is
project driven, there is a risk of it developing a logic of its own and being less
responsive to members’ concerns. However, there is nothing automatic about
this; outside funding does not necessarily go with a weak commitment by the
actors. Rather, it is the competing notions among the latter that may explain
why the process was aborted. Access to outside funding, however, may have
affected the process negatively. The formation of an effective party requires
some kind of movement that is organisationally rooted. ‘You don’t set up
movements by declaration,’ as one critic put it.
The party, according to the logic of the eu-funded ‘Agura process’, was
expected to emerge from the labour–civil society network. There were strong
mutual suspicions, however, between the party activists of the nlc and those
of ‘civil society’, especially the groups on the Left that had a long tradition of
their own of party formation. These were groups that identified themselves

with the working-class ideologically and who saw themselves as being part
of the ‘labour movement’. When sidelined by the nlc, they reacted angrily.
They spoke of SOZ Ejiofor and the Labour Party as traitors of the socialist
cause. According to Baba Aye (interview), Oshiomhole and Ejiofor had one
thing in common: neither wanted the party to be taken over by the Left.
What role did ideology play in the demise? Yemisi Ilesanmi
(interview), the assistant national secretary and Women’s Wing leader,
suggests that the party ‘lost track’ because it failed to define its ideology:
‘Some of us assumed that it was left-wing but the leadership did not agree.’
The divisions led to ideological clashes. The Left had high expectations and
supported the party initiative, but it was disappointed. The nlc was not ready
to involve itself and was marked by indecision. ‘The problem is that there are
too many different ideologies in the industrial unions,’ said Ilesanmi. ‘It is
not a serious party.’
Where was the ideology that could have united these various forces
around a common project? SOZ Ejiofor wanted ‘social democracy’ but this
was understood very differently by the various groups that participated in
the labour–civil society network and among the unions themselves. It failed
to provide the basis of a common orientation. This can be contrasted to
the experience of alliance building in the 1980s, when students, lecturers,
progressive women and other segments of society were united by an opposi-
tion to authoritarianism and structural adjustment (Lukman 2005). The
alliances of that time, according to Lukman, were based on ideological
affinity. According to him, organisations were more ideological; they were
conscious of contributing to a common agenda. They assisted each other, for
instance, in recruiting ideologically committed political cadres. There was
a common concern with national development and they all followed closely
what was happening in the ‘friendly’ organisations. They were ‘nationalist
institutions’ and when they collapsed a vacuum was created. It took the nlc a
few years under Paschal Bafyau to destroy itself, says Lukman. In his view, at
the time of Agura there was no common ideological understanding of issues.

The only thing that tied people together was the need to defend ‘democracy’
and, to a lesser extent, a concern with the revival of the national economy. In
both cases, however, the issues were general and not understood in ideo-
logical terms, as was the case in the 1980s.
The main cause of the failure, and here most critics seem to agree,
was that the party lacked effective roots in the trade unions. Although the
expectations of the workers were initially very high, according to Yemisi
Ilesanmi (interview) ‘they were soon lost’. They did not even know what
was happening to ‘their party’ or even if it still existed. After the conven-
tion, there was no information about the party reaching out to the union
members. Baba Aye (interview) agrees: the reason why the party now found
itself ‘in a state of paralysis’ was the ‘gulf or a disconnect between the labour
movement and the party’. Being a student union activist before joining the
trade unions, Baba Aye’s notion of the ‘labour movement’ includes both
the trade unions as such and the pro-labour Left. It is clear that the party
had failed to draw support from either. However, the problem was not just
the lack of roots in the labour movement but the fact that the movement
itself was contested territory. The project may have been paralysed because
of the inability of the competing factions to resolve their own divisions.
A basic problem was the lack of capacity to commit the labour movement
organisationally. What happened, one critic said, was that individual labour
leaders imposed themselves on the process without being prepared to subject
themselves to collective decision-making or make themselves accountable.
Labour and politics: Constraints and possibilities
What lessons can be learned from the failure of Nigeria’s Labour Party? Our
discussion of ‘what went wrong’ points to a number of specific problems that
characterised the process that led to the formation and subsequent failure of
the party. It may well be asked to what extent these problems were specifi-
cally Nigerian or if the failure of the Labour Party can be explained with
reference to traits that are shared by other societies, especially in Africa and

parts of the so-called Third World. What role can labour movements play in
party politics in societies where capitalist relations of production are largely
unconsolidated and which are dominated numerically by small ‘independent’
producers, traders and other service providers? In conclusion, we return
to the apparent paradox between the political capacity of the nlc to defend
popular democratic positions on the one hand and, on the other, its failure to
institutionalise this influence at the level of party politics.
Let us first recall the achievements: the unbanning of the nlc, the
election of a new forceful leadership, the struggle to commit the federal
government to a radically increased minimum wage and to ensure that it was
implemented – often against fierce opposition – and the valiant confronta-
tion over fuel prices and deregulation all suggest that the nlc had made a
remarkable comeback, that it was, in fact, a ‘Phoenix rising from the ashes’.
The Civil Society Pro-Democracy Summit, with its elaborate preparations,
ambitious agenda and ebullient mood, seems to confirm the rise of a new
nlc, anxious to assert its role as an alternative centre of political power in
Nigerian society, with ‘a vision and a mission’. To Peter Ozo-Eson (interview),
the Head of Research in the nlc secretariat, Congress was ‘the only viable
political opposition in the country … It is the hope of the common man’. In
preparing himself to step down from his second term of presidency in early
2007, Adams Oshiomhole (interview) was confident that his time at the nlc
had brought about major improvements: ‘I met an organisation in shambles;
it has been put back on its feet and it has been able to make a major impact,
nationally.’ Sceptical observers were less confident. One problem was
the conspicuous dominance of the entire process by the charismatic nlc
president himself. Especially after the widely popular and successful confron-
tation over fuel prices in the early part of his term, Adams Oshiomhole
become the subject of a virtual personality cult (see, for instance, Guardian
16 and 18 June 2000; Punch 18 June 2000). In comparison with the indeci-
sive, fractious and inept politics of the political parties, Oshiomhole’s swift,
articulate and decisive interventions on behalf of the nlc seem to have struck
a deep popular chord. His personal style and his ability to speak the language

of the people, or rather the English of the grassroots cadres of the labour
movement, without any academic or other elite polishing (‘big grammar’),
contributed to this popular image.
For some critics, Oshiomhole’s dominance seemed to lend credence
to notions that much of the revival was really a one-man show serving to
launch the nlc president into the public arena as a credible candidate for
higher political office, maybe the highest. Also, the Agura Civil Society
Pro-Democracy Summit was considered by some to be primarily an effort to
provide a political platform from which the nlc president could negotiate his
way into the corridors of power. Such critics recalled how this had happened
before, with disastrous consequences for the labour movement, when Pascal
Bafyau, as president, had used the nlc as a springboard for party politics
and was almost chosen as candidate for the office of vice-president of the
federation. Was this what Adams Oshiomhole was up to? Others, who were
less inclined to reduce the nlc revival to personal political ambitions, were
concerned that there was an excessive dependence on the new president’s
undoubted personal skills and flare for spectacular public interventions.
To what extent was the revival rooted in the strength and organi-
sational capacity of the nlc itself, including the strength of the industrial
unions? A particular worry was the weakness of the national secretariat,
which had been allowed to decay during the Abacha government when a
‘Sole Administrator’ had been imposed on the organisation, dissolving all
elected organs. The general secretary was not in a position to ensure an
independent and effective role for the secretariat, at least not in the view of
the critics who recalled the power, credibility and respect that his predecessor
had enjoyed. There were also worries about the sustainability of the concrete
achievements, including the new minimum wage. Even the apparently
successful campaign to prevent the government from deregulating the
domestic petroleum market was problematic. Could it be sustained? Would
pervasive fuel shortages and black market trading at prices several times
the official ones erode popular resistance? Would people keep coming out in
support of Congress’ positions?

The experience with the Labour Party did not, of course, diminish
such fears. There were two central assumptions behind the party project. One
was that only the labour movement was sufficiently national, in the sense of
bridging regional, religious and other communal divides; the other was that
only labour had a sufficiently broad popular base to be able to transcend the
pattern of the elite and patronage politics that had dominated so far. From
this perspective, it was argued that the nlc was obliged to assume its political
responsibility and offer political leadership. However, from its very inception
the party project was met with suspicion by those who recalled the nlc’s past
experience with party politics. Would it not be a diversion of scarce organi-
sational resources? Did a labour party stand a chance of having a real impact
as a political party? Or would it be sidelined or, worse, incorporated and

submerged by ruling class politics? We now know the answer. The party was
stillborn; it was not even a credible candidate for incorporation!
A major problem was the failure of the unions to mobilise the support
of their members for a political strategy. What stake do they have in the
building of alliances with other sections of civil society? How relevant are
such projects in terms of workers’ actual grievances? There was certainly
occasional political activism but this was rather like temporary flashes and
did not reflect any organised strength on the side of labour. In fact, the
industrial unions, according to one critic, find themselves in a process of
continued decay, despite the revival at the centre after 1999. There is no
disagreement, no vibrancy. ‘There are no collective forces at work.’ In theory,
there is a policy of ‘internal democracy’ but nothing is happening on that
front. A major problem, according to the critic, is that the nlc is preoccupied
with external threats, in particular the repeated efforts by the government
to revise petrol prices upwards. Much of the effort has gone into organ-
ising popular resistance to government policy. More recently, the Labour
Amendment Bill and the attempt by the regime to suppress the nlc have
added to these external threats. Labour has been repeatedly compelled to take
to the streets but does it really reflect a capacity to influence the direction of
policy? The ability to mobilise, to make people vent their anger, is one thing;

to actually influence the direction of policy is another. Street protests may
even serve as a safety valve that allows people to voice their grievances. In
fact, they may even lead people to feel – mistakenly – that they have done
something. There is the risk, according to one critic, that militancy dozes off
as people feel pleased with themselves for having ‘defied’ the government
and the security forces.
Conclusions: The political economy
Can we really expect trade unions to play a significant role in parliamentary

politics in societies where the working class is numerically marginal in
comparison with an overwhelming majority of peasants, small traders and

other ‘independent’ service producers? Nigeria is a capitalist society with
its development geared to the logic of global capitalism, especially in the
oil-producing sector that completely dominates both foreign trade and public
finance. However, given their small number, international oil companies
operating in this sector have few employees and do not cause capitalist
relations of production to transform the economy. Although ‘primitive accu-
mulation’ is rampant, the capitalist class proper is small and unconsolidated.
Much of what is accumulated in the local conduits of the oil economy and
elsewhere is not invested in expanding capitalist production but in property
and additional consumption. This is reflected in the organisation of party
politics. Political parties are only marginally organised on the basis of ideo-
logical positions related to different locations in terms of class or strategy.
The electorate is certainly deeply involved in influencing the demands
placed on politicians and there is intense competition between communities,
regions, and ethnic and religious groups over access to resources. Politically,
however, such competition is mediated by coalitions of individuals who claim
that they are best placed for that purpose. The constituencies feel repeatedly
deceived and frustrated by the greed, deviousness and inconsistency of the
politicians, but they seem to consider few other options than to look for
someone who hopefully is both better placed and more credible – next time!

So, where does the Labour Party fit? Does it have a place in the scheme
of things? Clearly, the party activists think so. But is it consistent with
the structure of the political economy? Has Nigerian capitalism advanced
sufficiently to be able to harbour a political party primarily based on the
aspirations of a small segment of wage earners organised in trade unions, as
well as on the aspirations of their socialist friends, people committed to an
anti-capitalist agenda, at a time when capitalist relations of production are
yet to transform Nigerian society? In conclusion, we argue that organised
labour has a particular political mission in societies like Nigeria precisely
because capitalist relations of production are so weakly developed. Although
the working class is small compared to other social forces, the nature of the
workplace and the mode of incorporation in production are decisive for the
development of collective forms of organisation and political capacity. Andrae
and Beckman (1998) argued in their study of the Nigerian textile industry
that unions have played a crucial role in the diffusion of constitutionalism and
political rights, thereby contributing to the development of capitalist relations
of production as well. It is this special exposure and competence that also
allows unions to offer leadership for wider segments of society. This is what
explains, in our view, the ability of the nlc, for instance, to draw wide popular
support for its repeated confrontations with the state over petrol prices and the
deregulation of the petroleum economy.
Simultaneously, the special position of organised labour in under-
developed capitalist societies has the capacity of generating ideology. In
its appeal to wider popular forces, it seeks to make itself relevant to the
development needs of the people. In doing so, however, it falls back on its
own mode of insertion in the wage-earning economy, making it identify
with strategies of modernisation and industrialisation, that is, with processes
that tend to generate demand for wage labour. Historically, the labour
movement, although even more minuscule at the time, was closely allied to
the anti-colonial movement. Colonialism, in its views, held back the growth
of a modern national economy based on commodity production and social
welfare. In the present political climate, the labour movement can therefore

easily identify ideologically with the controversies generated by the rise of
global capitalism and the hegemonic pretensions of the neo-liberal position.
The deregulation of the Nigerian petrol economy advocated by the Obasanjo
regime and its successor, for instance, tends to generate an automatic riposte
from organised labour: the national refineries that have been allowed to
disintegrate must be put back into operation! By necessity, the nlc has
become deeply involved in the problem of the non-functioning of basic public
infrastructure – such as water, electricity and communications – that is
crucial for the survival of Nigeria’s fledgling manufacturing industry. The
nationalist cry for protection is intimately linked to assumptions of national
development at that level.
Why is it that the nlc has been able to intervene so significantly at the
level of national politics over petrol prices and deregulation, while failing so
miserably in its attempt to put a credible political party on the ground? Why
is it that organised labour seems to be able to exercise considerable political
influence but is not able to break into the arena of parliamentary politics?
Can the paradox be explained in terms of the logic of the political economy?
Does underdeveloped capitalism allow for the one but not the other? Its mode
of insertion in the political economy may make labour an articulate mouth-
piece of popular forces in opposition to the prevailing logic of ‘immature’
bourgeois politics. It does not, it seems, provide it with the necessary
channels to the electorate that can rival the ‘clientelism’ of the bourgeois poli-
ticians. Few voters may think that they can afford to trust the ability of labour
to deliver in the highly competitive political struggle over access to resources.
While supportive of labour in its contest with the state over issues of ‘national
concern’, the immaturity of the political economy may have prevented such
concerns from penetrating the clientelist relations between constituents and
patrons, allowing for alternative visions or ideologies of national development
to enter the parliamentary arena.
Does it suggest that it is too early to form a labour party? Not at all.
Although the logic of the political economy suggests that it is easier for
organised labour to mobilise mass support for particular positions than

to build a mass-based political party, it does not exhaust its potential for
playing a role in parliamentary politics. The justification for a labour party
may therefore be its potential for creating the avenues for asserting working-
class and popular democratic positions at the level of parliamentary politics,
rather than illusions about ‘capturing political power’. Again, the special
position of wage labour in the organisation of an underdeveloped capitalist
economy with ‘vested interests’ in industry, modernisation and a competitive
infrastructure provides a political economy argument for a labour party. In
the context of global capitalism, with its highly skewed balance of economic,
political and military power (imperialism), such ‘vested interests’ give
organised labour a special stake in ‘national development’ as opposed to the
neo-liberalism of dominant actors. These are ideological divisions that are

largely suppressed by a combination of political clientelism and an assertion
of neo-liberal hegemony. ‘National development’ as an alternative agenda
has a latent appeal to a wide range of actors within the framework of existing
parliamentary institutions.
In explaining the failure of the Nigerian Labour Party, it is thus
important that we do not misread the logic of the political economy. The
failure was not a ‘natural’ consequence of the presumably ‘marginal’ place
of organised labour in Nigerian society. On the contrary, we have pointed
to the features of underdeveloped capitalism that may well assign a leading
role to labour in the pursuit of national development and popular democracy.
The nlc’s engagement with the eu – Friedrich Ebert Stiftung project was a
response to a historical commitment in line with the ‘national democratic’
agenda outlined above. It lacked, however, a clear conception of what was to be
achieved. The failure may therefore be explained in terms of the way in which
an agenda that had been central to an earlier phase of decolonisation was
marginalised in favour of new strategies for integration into a global market
economy. In this respect, forming a labour party was more of a mechanical
response to an ‘opening’ than a serious commitment in its own right.

Notes
1. This chapter is based on the discussions of the two authors in Abuja in early 2006.
While in Nigeria, Beckman interviewed labour and Labour Party activists. The
notes from discussions and interviews were passed on to Lukman for comments
and corrections. On a few occasions we refer to ‘a critic’ when highlighting such
comments. Lukman served as a senior assistant general secretary of the nlc until
his resignation in mid-2006. Since 2006, the authors have met annually to review
developments in the nlc in general and in the Labour Party in particular.
2. 30 December 2000, Nigeria Labour Congress New Year message, signed by
President Adams Oshiomhole.
3. 22 February 2001, Vision and Mission of the Nigeria Labour Congress. For
meeting of National Administrative Council, Abuja.
4. Also Lukman’s records and Beckman’s notes.

5. Central Working Committee of the nlc, Benin, October 2001.
References
Adebola T (2004) ‘We have arrived’: Emergence of the Labour Party. Labour Factsheet
8 January–March: 1
Andrae G & Beckman B (1998) Union power in the Nigerian textile industry: Labour
regime and adjustment. Uppsala: Nordiska Afrikainstitutet; Somerset, New Jersey:
Transaction (1999) and Kano: Crd (1999)
Beckman B (1995) The politics of labour and adjustment: The experience of the
Nigeria Labour Congress. In T Mkandawire & A Olukoshi (eds) Between liberalisa-
tion and oppression: The politics of structural adjustment in Africa. Dakar: Codesria
Books
Cwc (2001) Central Working Committee of the nlc, meeting at Benin, October
Hashim Y (1994) The state and trade unions in Africa: A study in macro-corporatism.
PhD thesis, The Hague, Iss
Lukman S (2005) Organisational dynamics and the nans-nlc alliance. In B Beckman
& YZ Ya’u (eds) Great Nigerian students: Movement politics and radical nationalism.
Stockholm & Kano: Podsu–crd
Nlc (2001) Vision and mission of the Nigeria Labour Congress. For meeting of
National Aministrative Council, Abuja

Interviews
Adams Oshiomhole, President of the Nigerian Labour Congress, interview Abuja
060131.
Baba Aye, Head of Education, Planning & Research Department, Medical and Health
Workers’ Union; National Auditor, Labour Party, interview Abuja 060303.
Jamilu Inusa, Head, Administration, Labour Party, interview Abuja 060306.
Peter Ozo-Eson, Head, Research Department, Nigeria Labour Congress, interview
Abuja 060202.
SOZ Ejiofor, General Secretary, Amalgamated Union of Public Corporations, Civil
Service Technical and Recreational Services Employees, interviews Abuja 060131,
060202.
Umaru Mohammed, Alhaji, Deputy General Secretary, National Union of Textiles,
Garments, and Tailoring Workers of Nigeria, interview Kaduna 060215.

Yemisi Ilesanmi, Assistant National Secretary, Labour Party; Head Women’s Wing,
interview Abuja 060307.


5
Trade unions, liberalisation and politics in Uganda
John-Jean Barya
Introduction
this chapter deals with the relationship between trade unions and the
state from 1986 to 2006, a time in which the National Resistance Movement
(nrm), later (1995) simply named ‘the Movement’, held sway. In 2005,
however, the Museveni-led Movement regime, a so-called no-party arrange-
ment, changed course and held a referendum which technically 1 decided that
the country should move from a no-party to a multiparty system. During
this period (1986–2006) the trade union movement in Uganda underwent
a number of challenges, contradictions and transformations that call for
analysis. This period saw a number of internal and international develop-
ments that fundamentally reconfigured trade unionism in Uganda.
First, the country, especially the southern part, emerged from a bitter
civil war (1981–85) which had followed the war against the Idi Amin regime
(1979). The economy was devastated and workers, though in employment,
were generally not enjoying good labour conditions. Second, at the interna-
tional level, the Cold War came to an end. This meant there was a need for
ideological realignments, but also that unions were now going to operate in
an ideologically unipolar world.
Third, the fall of the Uganda Peoples’ Congress (upc)–Obote II
government meant that the new regime would attempt to intervene in the
trade union movement to further its own interests and to replace or recon-
figure what it regarded as a upc-dominated trade union movement. Fourth,
the end of the Cold War saw the emergence of the ideology of neo-liberalism
85

in the way economies, especially in sub-Saharan Africa, were to be managed.
The views and policies of the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund
(imf) and several key western governments on the virtues of the market
and the need to roll back the state were imposed on the country. Structural
adjustment programmes (saps), retrenchment of employees in the state and
public enterprises, as well as privatisation of the enterprises themselves,
had a tremendous impact on trade unions and the rights and livelihoods
of workers. It is in this context that the chapter seeks to assess the relation-
ship between trade unions and the state and, in particular, to deal with the
following questions:
◆◆ What has the nature of the relationship between trade unions and the
Museveni regime been and what impact has it had on the capacity and
political role of the trade union movement?
◆◆ In particular, what lessons can be drawn from the struggle for more
organisational space and rights seen in the long-drawn-out campaign
to reform Uganda’s labour laws between 1989 and 2006?
◆◆ What has been the impact of liberalisation, privatisation and retrench-
ment on trade union organisation and relevance?
◆◆ To what extent have international and foreign forces impacted on the
successes and failures of the trade union movement?
◆◆ What prospects lie ahead for state–trade union relations under the
newly reinstituted multiparty system?
The chapter is divided into a number of sections. It first outlines the theo-
retical and contextual framework within which the study was undertaken
and gives an historical backdrop to the state of trade unionism in the country.
It also locates the current relationship between trade unions and the nrm in
this context. The chapter then looks at the role of trade unions vis-à-vis other
forces in trying to reform Uganda’s labour laws from 1988 to 2006. The
assistance from foreign trade union organisations as a counterweight to local
state and employer interests is analysed regarding the same reform process.

Before concluding, the chapter explores the questions of privatisation and
liberalisation and how they interface with and affect trade unions and
workers generally.
Contextual and historical framework up to the nrm government
In order to understand union–state relations in the period under review, I

sketch my theoretical and historical understanding of the environment in
which these relations are located. Such an understanding provides a context
in which the status of trade unions in Uganda and their future possibilities
can be assessed.
The nature of trade unions in Uganda is essentially determined first

by the nature and size of Uganda’s economy. Uganda’s is essentially a peasant
economy with only 12 per cent of the population characterised as urban (ubos
2002). Second, the economy is also determined by the saps, which began in
the early 1980s and were later transformed into the full blown neo-liberal
economic policies of the 1990s and the present. Third is the ideological
orientation of the unions and union leaders who have historically taken an
economistic and apolitical stand as far as the role and functions of unions are
concerned. Fourth, the end of the Cold War and the emergence of new forms
of domination of countries on the periphery, popularly known as globalisa-
tion, have affected workers and the unemployed in debilitating ways. Finally,
the role and character of trade unions has also been intimately related to
their relationships with particular regimes, in this case the long-ruling nrm.
Uganda’s trade unions developed under the tutelage of the British
Trade Union Congress (tuc) and the International Confederation of Free
Trade Unions (icftu). They were at the centre of the Cold War and as such
developed under what elsewhere was called ‘Cold War unionism’ (Barya
1990). In spite of the highly political and ideological orientation of both the
British tuc and the icftu, these organisations taught Ugandan unions to be
apolitical from the end of the Second World War to independence in 1962.
Trade unions, liberalisation and politics in Uganda 87

They prided themselves on so-called free or autonomous trade unionism.
Nonetheless, with the approach of independence, pan-African and socialist
influences came to play a major role in the trade union movement. In 1958
the icftu built an African Labour College in Kampala to teach and influence
the nascent trade union leaders. There were divisions in Uganda’s trade
union movement in the 1960s, with a pro-government and pan-Africanist
faction supported by the All Africa Trade Union Federation (aatuf) based
in Accra, Ghana, and the so-called ‘independent’ faction supported by icftu
(see Barya 1990). By the end of the 1960s, however, government had forced
a merger of the two factions to form the Uganda Labour Congress (ulc),
which was dissolved by government in 1968 following a series of internal
squabbles. The national centre, the current National Organisation of Trade

Unions (notu), was eventually set up by law in 1974.2 During the Amin era
(1971–79), while unions were cowed they at least were also forced to maintain
some level of unity. With the return of political engagement and political
parties after the overthrow of Amin, unions had to make choices. Some
became pro the upc–Obote II regime while others remained autonomous.
In general, however, although the upc–Obote II government repressed
and imprisoned many workers and union leaders, overall the trade union
movement maintained its relative autonomy (Barya 1990). When the nrm
came to power in 1986 it therefore found a faction-ridden and polarised trade
union movement.
The nrm government continued with the saps programmes started
during the Obote II regime but went even further. Although it had set
off as a left-wing socialist regime, it gradually shifted and made a u-turn,
becoming one of the leading ideologues of market forces, liberalisation and
privatisation.
The nature of neo-liberalism negates the existence and functioning
of trade unions generally, especially in countries like Uganda where the
working class in the formal sector is small and the unionised part of it even
smaller. The logic of markets and individuals operating therein is opposed
to the collective, state-regulated industrial relations regimes that had

hitherto become entrenched in some African countries, including Uganda
(see Beckman 2001; Okuku 2006). Saps and privatisation entail cuts in
public expenditure; dismantling of price controls; so-called rationalisation
of the public sector through privatisation, lay-offs, wage cuts and closure of
enterprises; and liberalisation of the economy under the guidance of market
forces and the general opening up of the economy (see Konnings 2003).
Neo-liberals also argue that unions are organisations that represent only few
workers, that they are irresponsible and unrepresentative, and that they stand
in the way of the need to shift resources from the public to the private sector,
which is assumed to be more productive (Okuku 2006).
The effects of liberalisation and privatisation on Uganda’s trade
unions have been devastating, leading to job losses and therefore loss of
union membership. The ‘new investors’ and employers have not only refused
to recognise trade unions but have casualised most of the labour force with
the resultant loss of workers’ rights.
Liberalisation and privatisation are part of the process of globalisa-
tion, which intensified with the end of the Cold War in the late 1980s.
Globalisation has led to the emergence of a more or less global economy and
worldwide markets, which have in turn weakened the labour movement
internationally instead of strengthening it. Trade unions have been weakened
partly because of the emergence of new forms of industrial organisation and
personnel management practices which negate the role of trade unions. This
has also meant the destabilisation of labour markets due to the process of
deregulation (Okuku 2006).
An understanding of the relationship between trade unions and the
state in Uganda isn’t complete without reference to the attempts at incorpora-
tion and the divisions and leadership wrangles within the country’s trade
union movement.
Between 1963 and 1965 the industrial relations law that was put in
place was intended to allow the upc–Obote I regime to control the trade
union movement, though more incorporationist legislation was passed
in 1970, a few months before the regime was toppled by Idi Amin in 1971.

The trade union movement was split in the wake of independence in 1962.
By 1964 there were two clear factions: a pro-government union centre, the
Federation of Uganda Trade Unions (futu), led by ER Kibuuka, and the
Uganda Trade Unions’ Congress (utuc), formed in 1956, which remained
at arm’s length from government. While utuc was supported by icftu and
western trade unions, futu allied itself with and was supported by aatuf
and the eastern bloc-aligned World Federation of Trade Unions (see Barya
1991). Futu religiously supported labour legislation and policy proposed by
the government, even when it was anti-labour. Nonetheless, due to these
divisions within the trade union movement, the government forced the two
centres (futu and utuc) to merge in 1966 to form the ulc. This did not
succeed in achieving substantive trade union unity, as the government had

wished. Instead, in 1968, after an attempted coup by one faction of the ulc to
take over the leadership and overthrow the other faction, government stepped
in and took over the management of the ulc.
At the same time, in 1968 Uganda developed the Move to the Left
Strategy and was intent on creating a socialist society in line with Nyerere’s
Tanzania and Kaunda’s Zambia. In this context, a number of policy and
legal instruments were put forward to advance the cause of socialism and to
incorporate workers and their trade unions within the state structure. Three
policy documents and the Trade Union Act (No. 40 of 1970) were passed for
this purpose. The three documents aimed at establishing a socialist society
and included the nationalisation of 84 major foreign-owned industries
(Uganda Argus 2 May 1970). Trade unions were supposed to own significant
shares in the nationalised companies (Barya 1990). One public service would
be created with a uniform structure, including government (public) officers,
the teaching service, parastatals, cooperatives, the upc party itself and the
trade unions (Barya 1990). Trade unions would no longer act autonomously.
The Trade Union Act was also therefore passed to reflect and advance this
incorporation into the state structure. The Act destroyed the organisational
autonomy of the trade union movement, established a single union, ulc,
and dissolved all the autonomous trade unions originally affiliated to the ulc

after the 1966 utuc–futu merger. Foreign donations and gifts could only
be received after government approval, and all unions now became mere
branches of the ulc, the only union allowed to exist (see Barya 1991).
The above scheme was never operationalised because in January 1971
the army under Idi Amin overthrew the upc–Obote I government. Among
other things, the Amin regime reversed the philosophy and structure of the
labour movement under the Move to the Left Strategy and the 1970 Trade
Unions Act in particular. In 1973 a new law 3 restored the freedom of associa-
tion and autonomy of trade unions. A new centre, notu, was also created
by law and launched in 1974. Although autonomous unions were allowed to
exist, they were by law obliged to affiliate to notu. However, this freedom
and autonomy was generally not respected by the Amin regime, which
eventually favoured repression and dictatorship over accommodation and
patronage.
The upc–Obote II regime (1980–85) failed to incorporate and subjugate
the labour movement to its interests and instead chose repression and divisive
tactics against the trade unions. The origin of the conflict between govern-
ment and the unions stemmed from the fact that most of the unions and their
leaders were opposed to the regime and sympathetic to the parliamentary and
armed opposition (Barya 1991). The regime set up structures parallel to the
official and legitimate trade union movement under notu, creating the upc
Workers’ Councils and party branches in various workplaces. It also selectively
applied the law against anti-government unions and their leaders or opted for
outright repression, torture and murder (Barya 1990).
Besides state repression, leadership wrangles and rank and file disor-
ganisation thwarted democracy in most of the trade unions. For instance, these
wrangles could be seen in the Uganda Textile, Garments, Leather and Allied
Workers’ Union (utglawu), leading to many textile firms refusing to negotiate
collective agreements or to pay union dues because of leadership uncertainty.
In other cases, foreign trade union interventions in the disputes were detri-
mental to the union as they factionalised union leadership (Barya 1991).

By the time the nrm came to power in 1986, the trade union
movement was divided and faction-ridden. However, it was able to retain
a certain resilience as the official trade union leadership in most unions
remained steadfast although under tremendous pressure from the upc
Workers’ Councils and party branches. As such, the legal autonomy of the
trade union movement survived the upc–Obote II regime although the
movement was weak and needed revitalisation. The new nrm regime, at least
initially, encouraged freedom of association for unions though it was later to
turn as incorporationist as the Obote regimes, though in different forms.
The nrm/nra (National Resistance Army) presented itself as a
supporter and defender of women’s emancipation. It had a reasonable
number of female officers and combatants in the nra and ensured the
participation of women in Parliament and in lower level government
structures (Resistance Councils, now called Local Councils). As a result,
women’s visibility and participation increased dramatically. Notu and its
affiliates created women’s wings. Of 22 registered trade unions in Uganda
in 2006, seven had female general secretaries. Women also occupy other
important positions in notu and the individual unions. Most importantly,
two of the five workers’ mps are women. 4 Women have thus been provided
with an opportunity to participate in union leadership and contribute to their
programme activities and struggles. However, as discussed later, workers’
mps have currently all been recruited into the ruling party and may therefore
be compromised in their roles as workers’ representatives.
The nrm government also allowed the Industrial Court to operate
independently until about 1995 (see Barya 2001b). With the government’s
increasing entanglement in liberalisation and privatisation, it opposed any
inhibiting force on these processes, for example by resisting the fixing of a
minimum wage and intimidating the Industrial Court (see Barya 2001b). For
instance, when the court awarded a 60 per cent pay rise to bank workers in
May 1995, the president and the government newspaper lambasted the court

and its president, Anne Magezi (New Vision 16 May 1995, 18 January 1996).5
Although several groups, particularly the Uganda Law Society, defended the
independence of the court, the official government onslaught continued.
As a result, the president of the court took leave for almost a year and court
proceedings were paralysed (Barya 2001b). Since then, the court has been
marginalised and poorly funded.
For about three years, relevant panels were not appointed and parties
could not bring disputes to the court. From 2001 to 2006 it operated with
little support from the state and heard only a few cases. Since 2006, when
the tenure of the judges and independent panellists expired, no judge
has been appointed to the Industrial Court. The court has therefore not
operated for almost four years. The court’s work has also been hampered by
its administrative attachment to the Ministry of Gender, Labour and Social
Development instead of being funded from the Consolidated Fund (a general
fund into which all government revenue is collected annually). As such, it
has been subjected to budget cuts. In addition, the decentralisation of labour
and labour officers’ work to districts has disorganised the entire labour
administration system.
Finally, disputes have at times been heard within the Ministry instead
of being referred to the court, especially those regarding non-recognition of
unions by so-called ‘investors’ (see Ssali 2003). Assuming the court becomes
functional soon, it remains to be seen what role it can play under the new
Labour Disputes (Arbitration and Settlement) Act (No. 8 of 2006), which
made it the sole court handling all labour matters and disputes.
Trade unions and politics under the nrm
Trade unions had a direct political role from 1986 to 2006. Their participa-
tion was through the Boards of Directors of (for the most part) parastatals.
Unions participated in different tripartite institutions and in Parliament.

As far as their role on the Boards of public enterprises is concerned,
this was a carry-over from the upc–Obote II regime but it has been greatly
undermined by the privatisation of almost all significant enterprises:
industries, banks, produce-marketing boards, communication, postal and
transport companies and, recently, the railway system.
Although, according to the National Social Security Act (No. 8 of
1985, Cap. 222 Laws of Uganda), unions are supposed to be represented on
the National Social Security Fund (nssf) Board, at the time of writing no
workers’ representatives had been nominated to the Board. Their presence in
some enterprises has ameliorated the worst forms of privatisation but on the
whole they have been rather ineffective minorities on government-appointed
Boards (Barya 2001a).

Most tripartite institutions have been non-functional for many years,
except the Industrial Court, and that only to a very limited extent. One of
the most important institutions, the Labour Advisory Council, has not,
for example, been dealing with issues under the Employment Act (No. 6
of 2006) or the Workers’ Compensation Act (Cap. 225 Laws of Uganda).
Regarding the minimum wage, the Minimum Wages Advisory Board
was appointed in 1995 and released its report in 1997, recommending a
minimum monthly wage in 2005 of 75 000 Ugandan shillings (us$40).
However, the president and the Ministry of Finance rejected the Board’s
proposals, and indeed any idea of a minimum wage at all, despite the law
and Uganda’s ratification of the International Labour Organisation’s (ilo)
Convention (No. 26) on minimum wage fixing (Barya 2001b). The presence
of trade unionists (notu) on the nssf Board until recently has not stopped
the misuse and general mismanagement of the Fund, which has now been
moved from the Ministry of Labour to the Ministry of Finance.
But the most visible political role for unions has been their relation-
ship with the nrm regime and their presence in Parliament. Notu and
the unions were able to resist being replaced by a regime-created ‘workers
organisation’ in 1989/90, and were also able to register some modest achieve-
ments from 1996 to 2001. However, overall it is apparent that the direction in

which the process and relationship has been moving is that of incorporation
and subjugation to the interests of the regime, although significant residual
attempts at autonomy remain.
Between 1986 and 1996, the trade union movement generally main-
tained its autonomy although several individual leaders were close to the
regime and saw themselves as part of it. From 1997 onwards, the workers –
effectively through notu although not formally so – became part of the
ruling movement structure. Before 2006, they had had one representative in
the National Executive Committee (nec) and five at the National Conference,
supposedly the highest decision-making body of the Movement.6
However, these organs never deliberated on anything or came out with
policies, resolutions or programmes for workers. Both the nec and the National
Conference met only occasionally and then only to rubber-stamp the decisions
of President Museveni and his close associates. The Movement structure was a
corporatist stratagem to ensure that all organised or important interest groups
were contained and moderated within government structures.
The presence of workers’ mps in Parliament presents a number of
challenges. First, these mps are not organisationally linked to the notu
constitution and their electorate. They are not catered for within notu
structures, notu has no control over them and gives them no instruc-
tions. They are therefore not accountable to notu or the workers (Ongaba
interview).7 The Central Organisation of Free Trade Unions (coftu), another
centre, also has one mp in Parliament but the situation is no different from
mps’ relationship with notu. At times, mps have taken positions contrary to
notu or other union interests. For instance, on the role of the nssf and who
should house and control it, mp Sam Lyomoki opposed the notu position. On
another occasion, workers’ mp Martin Wandera proposed a motion to protect
workers in Uganda Revenue Authority who were being victimised; the other
workers’ mps sided with government and opposed him although they had
earlier agreed to support him (Ongaba interview). In other words, workers’
mps have not only at times opposed notu but have also acted in opposition
to each other in Parliament. In the period 2001–05, these mps were largely

representatives of government in Parliament rather than of workers. They
represented government positions and interests to workers rather than
workers’ positions and interests to government.
Second, their numbers in Parliament are so small that they can
hardly make an impact. After all, they are supposed to represent all workers
in Uganda not only unionised workers’ causes in Parliament, especially
in relation to victimisation, non-payment of dues, and problems related to
privatisation (Lyomoki interview).
Third, the one-party management of the Movement made alliances
difficult as every mp was in Parliament on so-called individual merit, though
workers’ mps represented a defined constituency. But the other geographi-
cally- and constituency-based mps represented their individual interests and

had no organisational or programmatic sympathy for workers and trade
unions. In a multiparty system it is possible to make meaningful political
alliances, although alliances can also be made with an anti-worker govern-
ment to the detriment of workers.
Finally, the trade union movement, together with union leaders and
workers’ mps, has been politically and ideologically demobilised. As Barya
argued in 2001:
although historically the trade union movement has tried to adopt an
independent line from the state and to organize and act autonomously,
members of the movement have always had no clear and definitive
socio-political agenda to advance and defend … Trade unions/workers,
unlike their counterparts in most other countries, are not sufficiently
organized to state and defend political positions which they may wish
to take. (Barya 2001a: 31)
The trade union movement had always defined itself as being apolitical and
only playing an economistic and technocratic role of collective bargaining
and defending workers’ rights on the factory floor or at the workplace.
But from Uganda’s history and, more glaringly, in the last two decades of
saps, liberalisation and privatisation, it has become clear that the apolitical

stance has been very unhelpful since the processes and policies that unions
were fighting were clearly political processes that needed an articulate and
organised political response. In this context, the chapter moves to a more
concrete assessment of current union–state relations.
Since the 2005 referendum that allowed multiparty politics in
Uganda, the trade union movement, at least at the level of union leadership,
has been captured by the nrm–o (National Resistance Movement–
Organisation) regime. When the Movement government accepted the return
to multiparty politics, it formed the nrm–o and set out to woo most of the
sitting mps, including the workers’ representatives. Only one of the five
workers’ mps, Martin Wandera, rejected the nrm–o in 2006.
At the nrm–o delegates conference in 2005 at Namboole Stadium in

Kampala, which endorsed President Museveni as a candidate after 20 years
in power (10 of these without any election, 1986–96), four of the sitting
mps were selected, plus one other, to represent workers in Parliament: Sam
Lyomoki from coftu; Bruno Pajobo, Charles Bakabulindi, Teo Ssentongo
all from notu; and Ms Tunde, for both coftu and notu – all are members
of the nrm–o. Trade unionists who contested but were not supportive of the
nrm–o were defeated. Indeed, the nrm–o gave each of its five candidates 10
million Uganda shillings (us$6 000) to help mobilise and buy support for
the notu/coftu delegates (Ongaba interview; Wuma interview).
This means, therefore, that although the five workers’ representatives
are supposed to represent notu and coftu as well as all workers in Uganda,
as members of nrm–o they will be pressured to support nrm–o and govern-
ment interests in Parliament, to the detriment of notu/coftu and workers’
interests in general. They therefore see themselves more as agents of nrm–o
and the government than of workers and the trade union movement. They
raise issues related to workers’ interests only in so far as such issues do not
antagonise the government or the president. The return to multiparty politics
has therefore, in the initial stages at least, further emasculated the trade
union movement and put its leadership in a patron–client relationship with
the state.

Trade unionism and the labour law reform process, 1988–2006
A critical area that brings into sharp focus the relationship between the
state and the trade union movement and workers generally is the process
of labour law reform in Uganda between 1989 and 2006. Demands for the
reform and modernisation of labour laws in Uganda, to bring them in line
with ratified and core ilo Conventions, have been made by workers with
the support of the Federation of Uganda Employers (fue) since the early
1980s. The upc–Obote II regime did not confront these demands although
calls for labour law reforms were made since its ascendance to power in
1986. Following these calls, in June 1988 the government asked the ilo for
technical assistance to update and revise its labour legislation (ilo 1992). The
ilo appointed Dr Brian Napier of the University of London as an expert to
assist in this task. A tripartite Labour Law Review Committee was set up to
work with Napier. Eventually, a Technical Memorandum was presented in
1992. It was never acted upon.
Eventually the forces of neo-liberalism in government, particularly the
Ministry of Finance, the president and the World Bank/imf, teamed up and
sponsored another study, this time a consultancy between us and Ugandan
law firms as part of the Commercial Laws Reform Project. The firms – Reid
& Priest and Bwengye, Tibesigwa & Co. Advocates, from the us and Uganda
respectively – made recommendations on several laws, including labour laws,
based on the American labour relations regime. Their recommendations
were rejected as irrelevant by the ministry responsible for labour (Ogaram
interview).
Under pressure from the ilo, yet another study was done on labour
laws, supported by the ilo and the United Nations Development Programme
with the participation of two local consultants and the tripartite partners
(government, unions and employers). Their report was presented to the
Ministry of Gender, Labour and Social Development in March 2001 (see
Barya 2001b).8 The new proposals sought to overhaul the old law, giving
meaningful and unrestricted rights and freedom of association to workers,

better dispute settlement processes, the expansion of health and safety rights
and, above all, new rights for workers in the employment relationship (see
Barya 2001b).9 A number of meetings were held with government officials
and a seminar was conducted with the support of the ilo to sensitise mps
to the importance of the Bills (see Barya 2007). Although the mps were
supportive of the Bills, the Ministry of Finance and the president were
opposed to them as being ‘anti-investor’. Union leaders frequently deplored
the non-enactment of the new labour laws, but the government ignored
them. In fact, the government employed foreigners in the Ministry of
Finance to undo what the tripartite labour laws review process had done. The
Chairman General of notu put it this way in 2003:
we are disappointed by the way the labour laws review process is

being handled. There is a project in the Ministry of Finance called the
Deregulation Project which is coming up with proposals that throw
labour laws back to the Stone Age. Worse still at most meetings this
project is represented by foreigners who do not know our culture and
habits … it appears they have usurped the powers of these relevant
organs. We wish to state that the discussion on (labour) laws for
Uganda should be done by Ugandans who know what is good for us.10
In spite of these pleas and strong support for the Bills by the Ministry of
Gender, Labour and Social Development, the laws were not passed between
March 2001 (when the technical report was submitted) and April 2006. How
the four laws (on employment, labour unions, labour disputes, and occu-
pational health and safety) came to be passed in one week is telling of the
influence of the us in the post-Cold War unipolar world.
The us’s African Growth and Opportunity Act (agoa) was taken
advantage of by the Ugandan government, which assisted a team of Sri
Lankans to set up the Apparel Tristar Ltd in Kampala, employing more
than 2 000 female workers. Utglawu had recruited over 90 per cent of
the workforce at Tristar by July 2003. The company refused to recognise
the union, claiming it had to certify that it was representative of workers

at Tristar. This could not be done as the company refused to supply a list
of its workers’ names to the Labour Commissioner to verify the union’s
claims. Instead, after further agitation by workers for union recognition
and bargaining rights, the company dismissed all employees. They were
re-employed the following day except for 293 workers who were dismissed
permanently.11 After studying a complaint by utglawu on this matter, the ilo
Committee on Freedom of Association found that no prompt and impartial
procedure appeared to have been put in place to deal with the dismissal of the
293 workers and recommended, amongst other things, that:
◆◆ an investigation be made into the dismissal and re-hiring of the
workers on three-month contracts;
◆◆ government take all the necessary measures to prevent anti-union

discrimination in future.12
The textile union meanwhile continued its international campaign for

union recognition and enlisted the support of the American Federation
of Labour–Congress of Industrial Organisations (afl–cio) and the
International Textile, Garment and Leather Workers’ Federation. They took
up the matter with the us government. Afl–cio, in particular, urged the us
government to expel Uganda from the agoa arrangement. This jolted the
Ugandan government to prevail upon Tristar to sign a recognition agreement
with utglawu in 2005. However, the agreement was never implemented
as no collective bargaining took place and the factory closed in 2006 (The
Monitor 20 October 2006).13 In the meantime the Ugandan government, led
by the Deputy Attorney-General and accompanied by the Chairman General
of notu, the Labour Commissioner, and the chairperson of fue, went to the
us to negotiate Uganda remaining in the agoa scheme (Ongaba interview;
Ogaram interview).
In October 2005 the us government gave the government of Uganda
until March 2006 to pass all pending labour laws, failing which Uganda
would be struck off agoa. Faced with this threat, the government mobilised

Parliament after the presidential and parliamentary elections in February
2006, and in the space of one week all four Bills were passed with only
minor amendments. It remains to be seen how the government, which does
not believe in the positive labour laws it was forced to pass, will ensure their
implementation and enforcement.
Liberalisation, privatisation and the labour movement
The neo-liberal economic policies adopted by the government since the

early 1990s have had a major effect on the labour movement in Uganda. The
neo-liberal framework was adopted following the end of the Cold War and
the emergence of a unipolar world in which us domination began with the

Gulf War and continues today with the so-called ‘war on terror’. For Africa,
in particular, it meant more unrestrained domination by the international
financial institutions – the World Bank and the imf.
The major building blocks of the Ugandan government’s neo-liberal
economic policies have been the so-called reliance on market forces and the
limited role of the state. The policies involved saps, cuts in public expenditure
(save for the coercive arms of the state), dismantling price controls, retrench-
ment of public servants and privatisation of public enterprises, leading
to massive redundancies, wage cuts for existing staff and the widespread
casualisation of labour.
One of the main claims for the privatisation process was that it
would rationalise public expenditure while expanding employment in the
private sector. According to government statistics, by 2003 only 2 per cent
of the entire workforce in Uganda was engaged in the private sector on a
permanent basis; 9.1 per cent were employed on a temporary or casual basis
in the private sector. Government employed 2.8 per cent on a permanent
basis and 0.6 per cent on a temporary or casual basis. The rest of the popula-
tion were self-employed (59.2 per cent) or were unpaid family workers (that
is, working in family businesses) (26.1 per cent).14

It is clear from the statistics that, following the massive redundancies
as a result of the privatisation of public enterprises, temporary and casual
workers dominate the employer–employee relationship. By mid-2006, 117
public enterprises had been divested and only 36 remained for privatisa-
tion.15 There are currently no credible statistics to show that privatisation has
increased employment. What is clear is that either casual employment has
increased or most formal employment has been casualised. But unemploy-
ment and underemployment are definitely problems facing Uganda today.
In a national survey conducted in 2002, the majority of respondents cited
poverty and unemployment as the major obstacles facing them (see Barya &
Rutabajuuka 2002).
Uganda’s main policy framework document, the Poverty Eradication

Action Plan, which is the country’s Poverty Reduction Strategy Paper, does
not take the question of labour seriously. It is based on the levels of economic
growth but fudges the question of working conditions, does not clearly
recognise the need for a minimum wage and seeks to reverse the gains made
regarding workers’ compensation. However, it acknowledges that ‘about
300,000 youths enter the job market annually … however, the majority do
not access gainful wage employment’ (peap 2008: 60).
Lack of employment and casualisation of labour aside, the
government has consistently relied on market forces to deal with employer–
employee relations. It has, for instance, failed to enforce the laws on trade
union recognition and the minimum wage. Government has not only failed
to enforce recognition of unions in the private sector but has also failed to
recognise and bargain effectively with the public sector trade unions for civil
servants, health workers, teachers and others. Although these sectors have
registered unions, some from as far back as 1994, government has not signed
a recognition agreement with any of them. Thus they cannot collectively
bargain or carry out their other representative functions.16
In the private sector, some of the most notorious employers that have
refused to recognise unions are in the textile, accommodation and building
industries, as well as mobile phone companies mtn and celtel. The refusal

to recognise trade unions is a violation of workers’ rights as laid out in
Uganda’s 1995 Constitution, the Labour Unions Act (No. 7 of 2006) and ilo
Conventions 87 and 98, which Uganda ratified.
The casualisation of labour is also the most blatant and direct assault
on the basic rights of workers, as they have no written contracts and get
no leave (including maternity leave) or termination pay. They are not given
workers’ compensation and health and safety protection while at work and
their social security contributions are not made.
In short, liberalisation and privatisation have not brought any tangible
benefits to workers. Rather, they have resulted in the casualisation of labour
and the violation of workers’ basic rights while at the same time not neces-
sarily increasing employment opportunities. Liberalisation and privatisation

have, however, brought tremendous profits to the new investors, who reap
benefits from the extremely cheap and casual labour.
Conclusion
The period 1986 to 2006 saw great changes in the environment in which
trade unions operate. Although they were able to maintain relative autonomy
during the upc–Obote II regime, the period in question saw a further emas-
culation of the trade unions. Trade unions have essentially taken an apolitical
stand, which has greatly undermined their ability to operate. When leaders
in notu or coftu do become political, most enter a client–patron relation-
ship with the regime. Today, the trade union leadership has been thoroughly
incorporated into the nrm–o regime structures, both in the party (nrm–o)
and in Parliament, although indirectly in the latter. It is now unlikely that
trade unions will take an independent and pro-worker stand as they will be
forced by the nrm whip to toe the government line. At the same time, notu
has no control over its mps despite being their constituency.

Second, the new labour laws, though positive, were passed in record
time. This was not because of a positive industrial relations atmosphere and
government’s support for the laws, but rather because the us government
blackmailed the Ugandan government over agoa. It will therefore be a
challenge to actually implement and enforce these new laws.
Third, the liberalisation of the economy has downgraded labour
and labour rights. Employment has not demonstrably grown as a result of
privatisation and liberalisation. The majority of workers today are temporary
or casual employees with hardly any rights. Casualisation of labour has
meant that hitherto acquired gains have been rolled back and what matters in
the new neo-liberal ideological framework of the nrm–o–Museveni regime
are profits for the investors and general economic growth. Thus, whereas
the Ugandan Constitution and to some extent the old labour laws, especially
those passed in April 2006, guarantee workers’ rights of association and
decent working and retirement conditions, the economic policies negate
them in practice. The economic policies make a mockery of the law; and the
government (particularly the Ministry of Finance and the president) will
enforce economic policy rather than the law, including the supreme law, the
national Constitution.
Fourth, although the ilo and foreign trade union confederations
have been of some assistance to the trade union movement, particularly in
the formulation of the new laws, clearly the burden and challenge for their
implementation lies with the labour movement in Uganda. It will be a test
of their abilities to see how, for instance, issues of union recognition and
casualisation will be handled since the new laws further empower workers in
dealing with these two problems, among others.
Finally, the stage has been set for the struggle between the rights of
workers and the unemployed on the one hand, and the interests of investors
and government on the other. The impact of the multiparty system insti-
tuted at the end of 2005 has so far been to create an informal patron–client

relationship between the nrm–o regime and the two labour centres, notu
and coftu. The opposition is yet to make any significant inroads in relation
to trade unions and workers generally.
It will be essential for notu to make alliances with other political
forces in Parliament in order to make headway in the struggle for workers’
rights and interests, because neither notu (or progressive elements within
it) nor workers should expect robust representation from the workers’ mps
in Parliament as it is currently constituted. Outside of Parliament it will be
equally wise to cast the net wide and make alliances with sympathetic civil
society, religious and political organisations if they are to make any headway
in the current political environment.
Notes
1. I say ‘technically’ because the entire opposition, except for a few organisations that
were fronts for government, boycotted the referendum.
2. See Decree 29/1973; see also the Trade Unions Act, Cap 223.
3. Decree 29/1973
4. In both the 2001–2006 and 2006–2011 parliaments.
5. See Industrial Dispute Clause 2/1993, NUCCPTE VS UBEA, and New Vision 16
May (Editorial: Re-think Arbitration) and 18 January (Editorial: Grow up).
6. See Sections 10(3)(n) and 5(1)(k) respectively of the Movement Act (No. 7 of 1997,
Cap. 261 Laws of Uganda).
7. See also notu Constitution.
8. See also JJ Barya letter to Director of Labour, moglsd – Technical Memorandum
on the Labour Law Bills, March 2001, in the Ministry of Labour; see also
Consultancy for Reform of Commercial and Related Laws that Affect Private
Sector Economic Development, Lot 2 Laws – Labour Legislation, Uganda
Institutional Capacity Building Project, Legal Sector Component CR – 2736 – UG,
1 August 1997, in the Ministry of Justice and Constitutional Affairs.
9. See note 8, and the 4 draft Bills on trade unions, employment, trade disputes and
health and safety.
10. May Day speech 2003 by David Nkojjo, Chairman General, notu.

11. See ilo Case No. 2378, Complaint against the government of Uganda presented by
the International Textile, Garment and Leather Workers’ Federation.
12. See ilo Case No. 2378.
13. See ‘Agoa Factory Closes’.
14. See ubos 2002 Labour Statistics at www.ubos.org/statlabour.html.
15. See www.perds.go.ug.
16. notu: Speech delivered by Chairman General, notu, 1 May 2006.
References
Barya BJ-J (1990) Law, state and working class organisation in Uganda. PhD thesis,
Warwick University, United Kingdom
Barya BJ-J (1991) Workers and the law in Uganda. Cbr Working Paper No. 17. Kampala:
Centre for Basic Research

Barya BJ-J (2001a) Trade unions and the struggle for associational space in Uganda: The
1993 trade union law and Article 40 of the Constitution. Cbr Working Paper No. 63.
Kampala: Centre for Basic Research
Barya BJ-J (2001b) Foreign political aid, democratisation and civil society in Uganda: A
study of NOTU and UMA 1990–2001. Draft cbr Working Paper. Kampala: Centre
for Basic Research
Barya BJ-J (2007) Freedom of association and Uganda’s new labour laws: A critical
analysis of workers’ organisational rights. Huripec Working Paper No. 4, April
Barya BJ-J & Rutabajuuka SP (2002) Monitoring progress towards democratic governance:
The Uganda country report. Kampala: Centre for Basic Research
Beckman B (2001) ‘Whose civil society’? Trade unions and capacity-building in the
Nigerian textile industry. In B Beckman & LM Sachikonye (eds) Labour regimes
and liberalisation: The restructuring of state-society relations in Africa. Harare:
University of Zimbabwe Publications
Ilo (International Labour Organisation) (1992) Technical memorandum to the govern-
ment of Uganda: Mission to advise on the reform of Ugandan labour law in relation to
trade unions and the resolution of trade disputes. Geneva: Ilo
Konnings P (2003) Organized labour and neo-liberal economic and political reforms
in West and Central Africa. Journal of Contemporary African Studies September,
21(3): 447–471

Okuku J (2006) Trade unions and democratic transition in Uganda. Draft research
paper. Research project: Trade unions in transition in southern Africa: Prospects
for alliance building and policy impact. Unpublished, copy available from author
Peap (Poverty Eradication Action Plan) (2008) Poverty Eradication Action Plan
2004/5–2007/8. Kampala: Government of Uganda
Ssali EN (2003) Labour dispute settlement in Uganda. Report compiled for ilo/
slarea. Unpublished
Ubos (Uganda Bureau of Statistics) (2002) Uganda population census report. Kampala:
Uganda Bureau of Statistics
Interviews
S Lyomoki, 17 January 2000 and July 2006
Dr D Ogaram, Labour Commissioner, August 2000 and 12 July 2006

LO Ongaba, Secretary General, notu, 12 and 14 July 2006
SA Wuma, General Secretary, Uganda Railway Workers’ Union, July 2006


6
The labour movement and democratisation in Zimbabwe
Lovemore Matombo and Lloyd M Sachikonye
this chapter explores the role of the labour movement in the democratisa-
tion process in Zimbabwe from the 1990s to the present. It is a role that has
had a defining impact on Zimbabwean politics, particularly during the decade
1996 to 2006. Significantly, it was the publication of its major document on

social and economic policy reform that marked the maturity of the move-
ment’s self-confidence and motivation to engage in wider social and political
issues (zctu 1996). What have been the outcomes of that participation in
those social and political struggles against authoritarianism? In what ways
have those struggles contributed towards the democratisation of Zimbabwean
society? How have they affected the character, outlook and vision of the labour
movement? Finally, to what extent has the ongoing contestation around
reform contributed to openings and debate on the way forward?
Analytical overview
On the face of it, Zimbabwe represents a paradox. It is a society that

‘liberated’ itself from settler colonial rule through an arduous armed struggle
accompanied by high levels of political mobilisation. The level of political
consciousness rose in both rural and urban areas and was evident during
the first independence elections in 1980. However, more than a quarter of
a century later, authoritarianism appears to have demobilised the wider
population to the extent that mobilisation has been replaced by despondency
and fear, apathy and withdrawal. A significant proportion of the population,
about 3 million or 25 per cent, has chosen the ‘exit’ option by emigrating
109

to either neighbouring countries or overseas destinations. The ‘liberated’
society has become an apparently demobilised one under an inward-looking
authoritarian system that is ‘aggressively nationalist’. Thus the wider context
in which the labour movement is operating is one which has regressed into a
repressed and demobilised society.
We need to define here our understanding of the concepts of
authoritarianism and democratisation. This is necessary in setting out the
framework of our analysis and argumentation. By authoritarianism we refer
to a political and social system that is built on a repressive set of measures
that block reform and democratic space. It is often a system constructed
and dominated by an autocratic leader and a narrowly based elite that create
and maintain a monopoly of power in a society. An authoritarian system is

nervous about popular organisations such as labour unions and civil society
groups such as human rights organisations, and so strives either to co-opt
or to repress them. The electoral system tends to be rigged in favour of the
authoritarian elite. Under such a state, institutions such as the judiciary and
the media are emasculated but the authority and influence of the security
agencies and the army are enhanced. Patronage is a tool used for self-
aggrandisement by the ruling elite but also for populist purposes to reward
its supporters among voters. Thus an authoritarian system survives on the
basis of a constant and skilful use of both the carrot and the stick.
By democratisation we mean the process by which democracy is
constructed and sustained in a society. It involves broad representation and
participation of citizens in the political system but also access to economic
rights and sustainable livelihoods. We are inclined to stress the substan-
tive elements of democracy since the procedural ones are by themselves an
insufficient condition. While elections and the manner in which they are
conducted are important, they do not amount to democracy on their own.
Thus, although electoral democracy is a necessary stage in the construction
of democracy, it needs to be accompanied by wide economic and cultural
participation as well as social cohesion. While it is important for elections to
be free and fair each time they are held every four or five years, it is also vital

that the rights of citizens and access to socio-economic equity are guaran-
teed. In addition, we view democratisation as a long-term process and not
a one-off event. It is a long-term process to the extent that the nurturing of
democratic values to underpin democratic institutions takes time, spanning
decades if not generations. In this chapter, it is this version of democratisa-
tion as both a broad and a long-term project over the long haul that we are
chiefly interested in.
In the Zimbabwean case, some contextualising is also necessary,
particularly in relation to the issues of nationalism and political transition.
This is because the Robert Mugabe regime constantly reminds its subjects
and the outside world that it is the repository of nationalism and, indeed,
pan-Africanism vis-à-vis the internal opposition movement and the ‘impe-

rialist’ west. Repression has been defended on the grounds of preserving
national sovereignty against domestic ‘sell-outs’ and external ‘detractors’. An
introspective and belligerent variant of nationalism has emerged, especially
since 2000, as a response to both the emergence of the opposition movement
and the growing chorus of international criticism. Although it is nationalism
infused with a strong streak of authoritarianism, it is one that has been
combined with a dose of populism during this same period. While signifi-
cant land redistribution was clearly overdue, the manner in which it was
undertaken was along decidedly populist lines. Cronyism was widespread
as the ruling elite shared the ‘spoils’; there was extensive use of ruling party
patronage to ensure that its rural and urban supporters got land in return for
votes. The opportunistic and populist approach to the ‘land question’ may
have been a political masterstroke but it has so far had disastrous economic
consequences. For instance, Zimbabwe has the dubious distinction of having
the highest inflation (at 231 million per cent in December 2008) and the
fastest shrinking economy in the world. Authoritarianism in Zimbabwe
thrives on this brand of populist nationalism whose sustainability is never-
theless doubtful.
The labour movement and democratisation in Zimbabwe 111

While authoritarianism may display a facade of a ‘strong police state’,
its social and economic base is much weakened. It is also being challenged
on several fronts. Some commentators have observed an ‘exhausted nation-
alism’, or at least one whose capacity for regeneration is now much weakened
(Bond & Manyanya 2002). This raises the possibility, indeed the question,
of political transition. What kind of a transition does the labour movement
envisage? To what extent has the ‘Chiluba scenario’ in Zambia shaped percep-
tions about a possible role for the labour movement in a transition process?1
Although these are germane and strategic questions, there does not appear to
be much debate on them within the labour movement at this juncture.
The labour movement from 1990 to 2000
Having set out the key analytical issues, we now proceed to an assessment
of the labour movement in the democratisation process. To the degree that
democratic struggles are organised and persist under authoritarianism, one
can speak of a broad democratisation movement and process. Although this
process is occurring in an inhospitable environment, it has had a qualitative
impact on civil society and even influenced the terms of debate on issues
such as constitutional reform.
What is the significance of or justification for this periodisation, the
1990s to the present? First, during this period the labour movement became
more assertive, having weaned itself from state patronage in the late 1980s
(Sachikonye 1997, 2001). This had as much to do with structural changes
in the economy and society as with a new brand of independent labour
movement leadership. With the launch of an economic structural adjustment
programme (esap), there was a major shift in economic and social policy.
This ruptured an unwritten social contract between the state and organised
labour and business, and abetted the enrichment of a few elites and the
stagnation and worsening of conditions of the majority of the working and
middle classes. There were two social and economic models: one based on

economic liberalisation, and another that stressed a strong developmental
role for the state and equity (zctu 1996; Zimbabwe Government 1991). These
models were contested. For the remainder of the 1990s, the labour movement
under the auspices of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions (zctu) made
a relentless critique of esap and related measures of economic liberalisa-
tion, and campaigned against specific government measures through
general strikes euphemistically termed ‘stay-aways’. On the other hand, the
Zimbabwe state would pursue adjustment through esap in the early 1990s
and seek funding replenishments from the World Bank and the International
Monetary Fund. The replenishments became erratic in the latter part of the
1990s.
In hindsight, the recourse to economic liberalisation in the early

1990s was a defining watershed in Zimbabwe’s political economy. Some
of the early critiques of esap argued that full-blown liberalisation would
undercut domestic industries before they had re-equipped and reinvested
substantially, and that the hasty deregulation of labour laws and social safety
measures would inspire a widespread backlash (Gibbon 1995; Sachikonye
1995). It was scarcely surprising that it was labour unions that spearheaded
this backlash. This took the form of widespread and prolonged strikes in
the public sector in 1996, and several national stay-aways in 1997 and 1998.
In addition, there was restiveness among other social groups – the militant
war veterans who claimed to have been marginalised in the sharing of the
fruits of independence, and peasants who argued that their land hunger
had reached acute levels. Between 1997 and 1998, this restiveness translated
into public confrontation between war veterans and the government, and
the beginnings of land occupations by peasants in some provinces. The
simmering tension was breaking out in the open. As it was observed:
by concentrating on price changes, esap diverted attention from the
much needed reforms such as land redistribution … Structural bottle-
necks needed to be addressed up front to empower the marginalized
groups to participate in market outcomes … (Kanyenze 2004: 56)

By 1999, it was clear that economic recovery would be very difficult without a
change from the economic liberalisation model since it had failed to address
the social contradictions that had emerged. A military intervention in the
Democratic Republic of the Congo between 1998 and 2000 proved a further
heavy drain on an already weakened economy.
The zctu and the democratic struggle
What were the political ramifications of these developments on the economic

and social front? As a reaction to the government’s shift to the adjustment
model, the zctu became increasingly critical, leading to an internal debate
on whether it should wade into the political arena. Although it stopped short
of doing this in the early and mid-1990s, the zctu consciously set about
building grassroots committees at regional level, promoting women’s issues
and strengthening cooperation with organisations representing students,
public servants, academics and small farmers. The Secretary General of the
zctu, Morgan Tsvangirai, remarked that:
Our policy is not to be linked to any political party. I think it is
premature at this stage for unions to divert from their fundamental
role of defending the interests of workers. But we have political
concerns like any other organized grouping. The zctu should not be
so myopic that it only deals with wages but should expand its horizon
and agenda to include other political, economic and social problems
that confront workers. (Tsvangirai, quoted in The Herald 29 April
1992)
Although these appeared to be guarded remarks, they did not rule out
an eventual political agenda for the labour movement. More generally,
they signalled an assertion of its organisational autonomy, a rejection of
economism and a striving for a leadership role in alliances or fronts created
with other mass organisations (Sachikonye 1993).

There is therefore a sense in which the zctu consciously broadened
its unionism into what is sometimes broadly termed ‘social movement
unionism’. This brand of unionism entailed the embracing of other social
groups with respect to their social, economic and political interests and
demands. This found expression in the zctu’s catalytic leadership in the
constitutional reform movement that emerged in 1997. The movement,
organised into the National Constitutional Assembly (nca), was initially
headed by Morgan Tsvangirai and his deputy, Gibson Sibanda, while various
civil society organisations constituted the broad membership. The objectives
of the nca were defined as:
Initiating and engaging in a process of enlightening the general
public on the constitution of Zimbabwe; identifying shortcomings of

the current constitution and to organize debate on possible constitu-
tional reform; organizing the constitutional debate in such a way as
would allow a broad-based participation; subjecting the constitution-
making process to popular scrutiny with a view to entrenching the
principle that constitutions are made by and for the people; and
generally encouraging a culture of popular participation in decision-
making … (nca 1998: 3)
The vision of the nca was inspired by that of its affiliate organisations:
without ‘good and democratic governance founded on a firm foundation of a
democratic constitution in this country’ (nca 1998: 3) efforts at development
would come to naught. The nca was tapping into a growing disillusionment
with the limitations of the Lancaster House independence Constitution,
and with retrogressive amendments that had been made to it. At that time, a
total of 14 amendments had been made, including some which concentrated
power in the hands of the president. In many circles, this Constitution was
viewed as an obstacle to broad democratisation (Sachikonye 2002).
The nca campaign for constitutional reform provided impetus to a
parallel initiative by the Zimbabwe government in 1999. Its Constitutional
Commission undertook countrywide consultations but presented a draft that

did not include a key provision that the presidential term of office should be
limited to two terms only. There had been widespread sentiments that the
number of terms should be stipulated in the Constitution, and that President
Mugabe should not stand again after 20 years in power. As it turned out,
the government-sponsored constitutional draft was rejected in a referendum
in February 2000. This marked a defining moment in post-independence
Zimbabwean politics, as the response of the state was to swing to an authori-
tarian mode soon after this debacle.
By then the protagonists were clearly the ruling Zimbabwe African
National Union-Patriotic Front (zanu-pf) and the Movement for Democratic
Change (mdc), formed in September 1999 on the basis of the groundwork
undertaken by the zctu and civic organisations such as the nca. The top
leadership of the mdc was drawn from the labour movement and other civil
society organisations. The senior positions in the mdc occupied by labour
leaders included the presidency (Tsvangirai), deputy presidency (Sibanda)
and national chairmanship (Isaac Matongo). From late 1999, the struggle for
power between the two protagonists became intense and bruising, and would
intensify in the next seven years.
Authoritarianism and constraints on democratisation: 2000–08
Prior to 2000, Zimbabwean politics largely related to heightened

campaigning and tension during election years in a context in which
zanu-pf was the dominant party. In the 1990 and 1995 elections it had won
more than 90 per cent of the seats in an electoral system heavily weighted
in favour of the governing party. However, with the growth of civic organisa-
tions and the constitutional movement, as well as the founding of the mdc,
the political landscape had changed dramatically. One prospect was that if
free and fair elections were organised, the incumbent government might
lose to the mdc. This prospect was undermined by an incremental slide
into authoritarianism marked by the use of political violence; repression of
various forms of protest, including demonstrations; a clampdown on the

media through new legislation and outright harassment, as in the bombing
of newspaper and independent radio premises; and strictures on public
meetings (Amnesty International 2004; Commonwealth Observer Group
2000; Zimbabwe Institute 2004).
Following the referendum defeat, the response of the state was to
use an ‘iron fist’ against its opponents. The latter were a diverse group,
ranging from the mdc to white commercial farmers, students and civil
society groups, with the most prominent targets being the zctu and human
rights groups. Having read the referendum defeat as ‘a wake-up call’, Robert
Mugabe vowed not to be ‘caught napping again’. However, repression was
not only directed against the opposition bloc organised around the mdc, but
also at the judiciary and business personalities believed to sympathise with

the opposition movement. Of particular interest was the onslaught against
individual unionists and the zctu itself.
The unions were a major target for several reasons. First, they were
viewed as bedfellows of the mdc and were accused of having provided
infrastructure and other forms of support to it. The zctu’s national presence
through offices and branches in the cities and regions was an asset viewed
as having played a facilitative support role. In particular, union assets and
organisers were viewed by the governing party as a political threat, and
therefore objects of attack. Examples of such attacks were the murder of
union activists such as Talent Chiminya, arson attacks on union offices
in Bulawayo in 2000, and subsequent repeated raids on the zctu head
office. As time went on, state harassment included the repeated detention
of zctu leaders such as Wellington Chibebe, Lovemore Matombo and Lucia
Matibenga, among others. On 13 September 2006, 15 trade union leaders
were systematically tortured following a protest demonstration that they had
attempted to mount in Harare. Two of those who were tortured were perma-
nently disabled as a result. The episode was widely condemned nationally
and internationally.

Laws such the Public Order and Security Act (2002) (posa) and the
Access to Information and Protection of Privacy Act (2003) facilitated this
state campaign of harassment and coercion. In sum, unions were viewed as
incubators for a new breed of opposition politicians with strong roots both at
workplaces and in the community. During the past eight years, an orches-
trated campaign against the zctu and its affiliates has therefore been a major
part of the state response to broad democratic struggles.
In addition, the state has sought to create and fuel divisions within the
labour movement.2 It has sought to achieve this principally through support
of a rival labour centre, the fomenting of splinter unions and the stoking
of dissension within the zctu. State institutions, including the Ministry of
Labour, actively promoted the divisive role of a rival centre, the Zimbabwe
Federation of Trade Unions (zftu), led by Alfred Makwarimba and Joseph
Chinotimba during the post-2000 period. Although the zftu has negligible
affiliate membership, it received state support and cooperation and wide
access to the public media, which is under government control. For instance,
during May Day celebrations, the state facilitated access to publicity and
stadiums and sponsored major football matches to draw crowds to zftu
events. In 2004 and 2005, a concerted campaign was launched to expand
the influence of five unions to deliberately create discord to undermine the
authority of the zctu General Council and the leadership of Wellington
Chibebe, the Secretary General, and Lovemore Matombo, the president. In
the first half of 2005, a series of meetings, events and episodes of violence
instigated by zftu affiliates were aimed at tarnishing the image of the zctu.
The state media actively abetted these attacks.
Furthermore, as noted, the state has employed draconian legisla-
tion such as posa to prohibit the labour forums organised by zctu-aligned
unions. For example, the zctu was required to apply for police permission
to organise public union activities such as meetings. The police insisted on
deploying posa despite a section of the Act that exempts unions from its
application. In one instance in August 2006, the police spelled out these
conditions:

◆◆ speakers at the conference should spread messages of peace and not
instigate violence or demonise the head of state or his deputies; and
◆◆ any member of law enforcement agencies would have access to the
conference.
When the courts ruled that posa contradicts basic ‘freedom of assembly’, the
government crafted the Criminal Codification Act (2006) which the zctu
has challenged and which has also been condemned by the International
labour Organisation. This has made the Zimbabwe government a serial
offender against basic freedoms and civil liberties.
The curtailment of the freedoms of assembly and expression (the
strictures on the press that included the closure of the Daily News in 2003)
was also consciously used against the unions. In some instances, the
campaign against zctu-affiliated unions became almost uncontrollable.
This was the case with orchestrated ‘factory invasions’ by the zftu in 2001.
Conceived as a counterpart to the ‘land invasions’, they involved extortion
against employers, kangaroo courts over wages, benefits and lay-offs, and
relied on zanu-pf mediation to resolve. However, it soon became clear
that such invasions would be unsustainable as a mode of conducting wage
negotiations and, more broadly, industrial relations.
State repression of labour was part of a broader process of emascu-
lating the opposition movement and civil society and, significantly, even
those sections of the state apparatus that were believed to be blocking
zanu-pf’s agenda (Hammar et al. 2003). Hence, there was a concerted
purging of independent-minded personnel from the judiciary, local govern-
ment and related state institutions during the period 2000/03. A similar
purging was mounted in the state media to rid it of personnel who were not
believed to be fervent enough in their support of the zanu-pf government.
Thus the political onslaught on the labour movement was part of a wider
ideological crusade against movements that stood for democratic pluralism.

Finally, there has been a pronounced shift towards a process of
militarisation, reflecting the ascendancy of the army, police and other
security services in party and state structures. The dependence of the
Mugabe government on these forces to enforce compliance through repres-
sion has strengthened the latter’s hand. Appointments of serving and retired
army and security personnel to top positions in ministries, parastatals and
into zanu-pf’s Central Committee and Politburo confirm and reinforce this
trend. Economic policy is increasingly through a National Security Council
in which security forces are substantially represented. Prior to the 2002
election, the heads of security forces openly announced that they would not
serve under a government headed by a leader who had not participated in the
liberation struggle. This would have raised the prospects of a coup d’état if the
opposition movement had won in 2002. The role of the securocrats is already
crucial in the race for succession to Mugabe with the first round having
gone to the former general Solomon Mujuru’s faction. The latter’s candidate,
Joyce Mujuru, was appointed vice president in 2004. However, the faction
politics in zanu-pf are bound to intensify as speculation mounts on whether
Mugabe will retire in 2010, if at all! There is no evidence of commitment to
democratisation by the securocrats. Indeed, they have been among the major
beneficiaries of the ‘spoils’ of land reform and economic indigenisation
programmes. The militia, intelligence operatives and the presidential guard
are elements more closely associated with lawlessness. They are more pliant
to party instructions and doctrine, with incentives that have created moral
problems for other ranks (Rupiya 2005). The militarisation of state institu-
tions and politics is a dangerous development, and a serious threat to the
democratisation process. It is nevertheless a political survival strategy that
Mugabe believes will enable him to buy time.
This militarisation has been accompanied by conscious attempts to
mould a new political value system aimed at nurturing ‘patriotism’. State
propaganda has been systematically produced, processed and disseminated
to create an ideological framework for this purpose. There is an extolling
of patriotic party cadres and a vilification of so-called opposition ‘sell-outs’.

There is a reinterpretation of history, including of nationalism, to paint the
incumbent leaders in a glowing light. In sum, huge doses of propaganda
have become the daily diet of news and commentary in the public media, but
especially on radio and television, in a consciously ambitious programme of
‘mind control’. Authoritarianism has thus skilfully drawn upon the tools of
disinformation and brainwashing.
A particularly sombre and brutal illustration of an authoritarian
response to the simmering political crisis was Operation Murambatsvina,
also known as Operation Restore Order, which was conducted in 2005. It was
the most ambitious and comprehensive attempt at social engineering in post-
independence Zimbabwe. About 700 000 people were directly affected and
2.5 million indirectly affected by the operation. For a country that was not in
a state of war, the most puzzling aspect was why it resorted to this military-
style operation. Launched in May 2005, the operation swept the country’s
cities and towns, ‘growth points’ and some rural areas till the end of July
2005, when a un Special Envoy, Anna Tibaijuka, compiled a damning report.
The operation was deployed against informal traders, informal settlement
dwellers and the poor, but also against small businesses and the middle
class. Operation Murambatsvina contributed massively to displacement and
homelessness. Although there have been extensive preliminary surveys, the
full social, economic and psychological impact will not be fully clear for years
to come.
The scale of the operation in terms of the numbers of people affected
and resources destroyed was unprecedented, not only in the country’s history
but also in that of the region. It was not surprising that when the news and
images of the operation were broadcast around the globe, the international
response was swift and damning. Coming not long after the Asian tsunami,
it did not take long before the latter and the constructed Zimbabwean
tsunami were compared and contrasted. The callous Zimbabwean project
was called an ‘operation’ to evoke its military style and methods, and it
represented a peak in militarist authoritarianism in the country.

Zctu–mdc relations
The relationship between the zctu and the mdc was originally close. There
was a popular perception that the latter was the former’s creation and that
there was an organic link between them. This gave zanu-pf grounds to
contend repeatedly that the zctu was a front for the mdc and that it was
short-changing those workers who did not belong to it or were non-partisan.
In a normal political environment, the close relationship between the zctu
and the mdc would not have had extraordinary significance. However, in
the highly charged atmosphere in Zimbabwe, it was a different matter. It is
scarcely surprising that this relationship loomed large in the zctu’s relation-
ship with the government, a relationship of mutual suspicion and mistrust.

It would be simplistic, however, to view the zctu as a constituent part of
the mdc without its own institutional personality and autonomy. Although
it was instrumental in facilitating the founding of the mdc in 1999, it did
not become part of the new movement, although its individual leaders and
members were free to participate in the party’s activities. Indeed, a new
leadership that was not politically active was elected into the zctu in 2001 to
replace those who had left for active politics in the mdc.
It is significant that there has been a major debate on the issue of
the degree to which the zctu should align itself with the mdc. One position
cautioned against a close alliance with the party. This position included a
critique of mdc parliamentarians, describing them as ‘opportunists’ who
used the labour movement as ‘a stepping stone to greater political heights’
(The Worker February 2001). These parliamentarians were alleged to have
departed from pursuing ‘bread and butter’ issues that affected workers. It
was argued that it would therefore be prudent for the zctu to distance itself
from the mdc. Another position was that there should be a close relationship
in the form of a strategic alliance between the zctu and the mdc. Indeed, a
special congress was organised in 1999 to consider the issue of an alliance.
It would later be recalled that at that congress, Tsvangirai argued that the

zctu should take ‘an organizational decision to enter into a strategic alliance
with the mdc’ (Alexander 2000: 390). He reportedly added that if the mdc
reneged on the commitment to serve the interests of workers, the zctu would
reserve the right to withdraw its support.
Clearly, the mdc evolved into a broad political movement drawing on a
wide support base larger than the labour movement. It draws its membership
largely from an urban base, the middle class, professionals, informal sector
operatives, the lumpenproletariat as well as from youth, students and other
layers of civil society. There are also business interests represented in the
mdc and, during its formative stages in 1999–2000, commercial farmers
were among its active donors and members. The multi-class base of the mdc
has also tended to be reflected in the party’s ambiguous outlook and ambiva-
lent policy positions. For instance, its policy positions on land, economic
liberalisation and on the social sector did not appear to offer clear alternatives
to those of the zanu-pf government (mdc 2004; zanu-pf 2005). The internal
contradictions in the mdc boiled to the surface in October 2005, resulting
in a party split, and again in September 2007, following an mdc–zanu-pf
agreement on Constitutional Amendment No. 18.3
In December 2007, zctu Secretary General Chibebe voiced some
misgivings about the political and ideological direction of the mdc. He stated
that:
We are now observing that the party has been drifting from the left
to the right … the mistake was for the party to allow visitors the liberty
to control the party. Some of these ‘fly by night’ and ‘political charla-
tans’ have now taken over the party … (The Worker December 2007)4
Chibebe made specific reference to the demotion of several unionists,

Lucia Matibenga and Ephraim Tapa, from influential positions in the mdc.
Nevertheless, the internal contradictions in the mdc and the tenuous position
of labour in the party had been foreseen in some of the analyses presented
in 2000 and 2001. One study had observed that the predominantly middle-

class character of the mdc, especially its parliamentarians, was in marked
contrast to its plebeian base of support, and that the labour movement had
no institutional hold over the party leadership (Alexander 2000). To illustrate
this observation, it was stated that of the 57 mdc parliamentarians elected
in 2000, 12 or less than 20 per cent were unionists while the majority were
academics, lawyers, professionals, businessmen and farmers. Another study
observed that multi-class alliances are difficult to maintain, especially within
a constituency-based institution such as the mdc which still refers to itself as
a movement and not a party (Dansereau 2001). It was further observed that
the mdc includes different component groups with different interests which
have not yet arrived at an internal compromise essential to the formation of a
national project. According to this perspective, if the mdc wished to take and
hold power, it would have to undergo a difficult transition to a party status in
which coexistent and contradictory interests:
are debated and struggled over, resulting in a struggle over the
control and direction of the party. The extent to which labour retains a
prominent and decisive role in the party will only be known once the
struggle takes place … (Dansereau 2001: 413)
Towards the end of 2007, the struggle had begun to unfold.
Zctu–government relations
The relations between the zctu and the government have been assessed
elsewhere more extensively (Sachikonye 2001; Sachikonye & Raftopoulos
2001). It is significant that this relationship is not mediated through the
mdc but directly. Clearly, the wider authoritarian environment has adversely
affected the prospects of the relationship. Nevertheless, a pivotal issue that
both sides have negotiated in substantial detail is that of a social contract.
They have been engaged on this issue since the establishment of the
Tripartite Negotiating Forum in 1998. It has been the task of this forum
(which brings together labour, business and government) to negotiate for

the contract through a process of social dialogue. A major landmark in
this process was the Kadoma Declaration of Intent, which spelled out the
following objectives:
◆◆ creating a conducive and tolerant environment for the negotiation and
conclusion of a social contract;
◆◆ overcoming stakeholder differences and working towards a common
goal guided by a common vision of national development; and
◆◆ working towards the sustainability of social dialogue in a spirit of
smart partnership and tripartism (necf 2003).
The three parties broadly agreed to ‘promote, observe and ensure good
governance, openness and accountability, and to prevent and fight corrup-

tion’ (necf 2003). The labour movement has continued to press the Mugabe
government to observe and apply these principles. Through a series of
workshops in 2005 and 2006, the zctu took steps towards strategic planning
for the conduct of the social dialogue process despite state vacillation over
the process. However, the state’s propensity towards unilateralism remains
a major stumbling block. An example of such unilateralism was Statutory
Instrument No. 159 of 2007, which froze wages and salaries without
consulting the labour movement. This legislation, which evoked presidential
powers directly, undermined collective bargaining. At the time of writing
(early 2008), a stalemate continued over a number of contentious issues,
including that of the poverty datum line in a hyper-inflationary environment
of over 66 000 per cent inflation.
Continued contestation and the way forward
Like most authoritarian regimes, Zimbabwe is reluctant to engage in reforms

that lead to greater participation in the political process and transparency
in governance generally. The Mugabe regime is nervous about reforms that
would undercut its monopoly of political and economic power. Constitutional
changes and power sharing would undermine the extensive patronage

system and cronyism that buttress its political machine. Commenced in
2002 with encouragement from South Africa and Nigeria, the negotiations
with the mdc petered out in 2004 before being resumed and reaching a
partial agreement in 2007. The 2005 elections did not dispel the crisis nor
did the state legitimacy crisis abate (Harold-Barry 2004; Raftopoulos &
Alexander 2005). Although the March 29 elections in 2008 were relatively
free and fair in comparison to previous elections, the run-off presidential
election in June 2008 was marked by state-sponsored brutality and violence.
In a communiqué, the zctu warned that it would not recognise the run-off
result while the mdc pulled out of the contest. However, the outcome of
the March election was decisive in the parliamentary and local authority
vote. Zanu-pf lost to the two mdc factions in the parliamentary and local
elections. Subsequently, the three parties, zanu-pf, mdc Tsvangirai and
mdc Mutambara, signed a power-sharing agreement in September 2008.
Differences over the allocation of ministries resulted in a deadlock which
persisted until sadc mediation resolved it at the end of January 2009.
At the same time, there was little respite for the unions as the
perennial shortages in the economy translated into lay-offs as firms
downsized or closed down. Inflation has continued to be unsustainably
high, at about 231 million per cent in December 2008. Economic hardships
hit workers and their dependants severely. By 2008, the priorities of unions
revolved around sheer survival as the queues for commodities in short supply
proliferated. Thus one outcome of authoritarianism and economic contrac-
tion has been the spread of self-preserving individualism and introspection
based on a ‘survival of the fittest’ approach. More investment is made into
survival strategies than into political mobilisation and community action.
It is against this sobering background that we consider the state of the
democratisation process at the current conjuncture. Both organised labour
and the opposition movement are in a weaker state in organisational terms
and influence than was the case prior to 2000. Civil society organisations
have been the object of state sanctions and raids while a new Bill to proscribe
funding for those engaged in human rights and governance work was passed

in Parliament in 2004 (McCandless & Pajibo 2003; Zimbabwe Human
Rights ngo Forum 2005). Although the ngo Bill has not yet received presi-
dential assent, it has already deterred some ngos from continuing to operate
while others have relocated to neighbouring countries. This repressive law
appears to have had its intended effect even though it is not yet formally law!
Nevertheless, sporadic protests continue to occur in cities such as Harare and
Bulawayo on issues ranging from demand for a new Constitution to denun-
ciation of increases in school and university fees. Students in particular have
been active in protests against the privatisation of services and fee increases
in tertiary institutions of learning.
The second challenge faced by the zctu relates to maintaining its
pre-eminent position within the labour movement. We observed above that

the state has been providing material and moral support to the rival zftu.
State support for the formation of the zftu in 1998 was crucial and, given the
latter’s weak affiliate base, infusions of such support have been indispensable
for its survival. However, this means that without state funding the zftu
would crumble. The significance of the role of the state is that it has reversed
the ‘one industry, one union policy’ that it assiduously promoted in the
1980s. As already observed, an additional element in this state strategy has
been to encourage several ‘renegade unions’ in the zctu to cause as much
disruption as possible in order to weaken it. The challenge for the zctu
is to prevent both externally and internally induced fragmentation and to
maintain internal cohesion. During the first half of 2006, there was a great
deal of infighting within the zftu leadership, leaving the organisation much
weakened to the embarrassment of the state. To the extent that the zftu is an
artificial creation without a strong base among workers, it will remain a state
appendage but nevertheless continue to be an irritant to the zctu.5
Finally, a critical challenge concerns how the labour movement should
balance its strategies and tactics in these conditions of authoritarianism.
While the ‘bread and butter’ issues remain central (hence the tough negotia-
tions on a poverty datum line), the governance issue remains a fundamental
one. In the final analysis, poor macroeconomic management, corruption and

inequities are the outcomes of bad governance. The democracy and govern-
ance question therefore remains of direct concern to the labour movement.
Although the state continues to use authoritarian measures against the zctu,
the latter nevertheless continues to press for engagement. At the same time,
it reserves its option of organising stay-aways despite the greater difficulties
in organising them now than in the past. This twin approach of dialogue
and pressure is difficult to balance when dealing with an authoritarian
and insecure regime. At the same time, it is difficult to conceive of other
approaches that create conditions for improved governance. Similarly, the
zctu needs to craft its relations with the mdc on the basis of solidarity and
autonomy. Such an approach would be in its long-term interest although
there would likely be flak from the state and the mdc itself in the short term.
More broadly, the zctu, as the largest organisation in civil society, needs to
continue with its efforts at building alliances with other organisations, such
as students, public servants, women, and human rights groups. It is likely to
be called upon to provide leadership in campaigns relating to democratisa-
tion. It will therefore require all the experience, skills and other resources at
its disposal to play this central role to ensure a democratic transition.
Notes
1. This was a scenario in which the Zambian labour movement spearheaded a broad
movement, the Movement for Multiparty Democracy (mmd), to instal a multiparty
government to replace the one-party state. The mmd consisted of a heterogeneous
set of forces, from civil society organisations, businesses, students and churches
to former members of the United National Independence Party. The mmd won
decisively in the 1991 election but the labour movement was soon outmanoeuvred
in the new mmd government, which went on to enact neo-liberal policies.
2. This part of the chapter draws from Sachikonye (2006).

3. The Constitutional Amendment No. 18 was introduced in 2005 to pave the way
for the reintroduction of the Senate as the second chamber. Elections for the
Senate were held in the same year. The mdc was bitterly divided over whether to
participate in those elections. This was one of the principal causes of the split in
the party in the same year.
4. Chibebe W, ‘Interview: “Mdc warned” ’.
5. The membership figure for zctu affiliates totalled 350 000 but there is no official
figure for zftu affiliates; however, it would be surprising if it amounted to 10 000.
References
Alexander P (2000) Zimbabwean workers, the mdc and the 2000 election. Review of
African Political Economy 85: 385–406
Amnesty International (2004) Report 2004. London: Amnesty International

Bond P & Manyanya S (2002) Zimbabwe’s plunge. Harare: Weaver Press
Commonwealth Observer Group (2000) The 2000 parliamentary elections in
Zimbabwe. London: Commonwealth Observer Group
Dansereau S (2001) Zimbabwe: Labour’s options within the mdc. Review of African
Political Economy 89: 403–414
Gibbon P (1995) Structural adjustment and the working poor. Uppsala: Nai
Hammar A, Jensen S & Raftopoulos B (eds) (2003) Zimbabwe’s unfinished business.
Harare: Weaver Press
Harold-Barry D (ed.) (2004) Zimbabwe: The past is the future. Harare: Weaver Press
Kanyenze G (2004) Esap: Precursor to the fast track resettlement. In M Masiiwa (ed.)
Post independence land reform in Zimbabwe. Harare: Ids/hivos/fes
McCandless E & Pajibo E (2003) Between perception and reality: Are ngos really making
a difference? Report prepared for mwengo, Harare
Mdc (Movement for Democratic Change) (2004) Restart: An agenda for social justice.
Harare: Mdc
Nca (National Constitutional Assembly) (1998) Nca newsletter 1(1)
Necf (National Economic Consultative Forum) (2003) Kadoma Declaration on a social
contract. Harare
Raftopoulos B & Alexander K (2005) The struggle for legitimacy. Cape Town: Ijr
Rupiya M (2005) Evaluating the state security sector as a repressive instrument of the
state. Mimeo

Sachikonye LM (1993) Structural adjustment, state and organized labour in
Zimbabwe. In P Gibbon (ed.) Social change and economic reform in Africa. Uppsala:
Nai
Sachikonye LM (1995) Industrial restructuring and labour relations under adjustment.
In P Gibbon (ed.) Structural adjustment and the working poor in Zimbabwe. Uppsala:
Nai
Sachikonye LM (1997) Trade unions, economic and political developments since inde-
pendence. In B Raftopoulos & I Phimister (eds) Keep on knocking. Harare: Baobab
Sachikonye LM (2001) The institutional development of trade unions in Zimbabwe. In
L Sachikonye & B Raftopoulos (eds) Striking back. Harare: Weaver
Sachikonye LM (2002) Civil society, leadership and democratization: Case studies
of the zctu and nca. In A Bujra & S Adejumobi (eds) Leadership, civil society and
democratization: Case studies from eastern Africa. Addis Ababa: Dpmf
Sachikonye LM (2006) Trade unions, authoritarianism and reform. In K Alexander

(ed.) The future of democratic politics in Zimbabwe. Cape Town: Ijr
Sachikonye LM & Raftopoulos B (eds) (2001) Striking back. Harare: Weaver Press
Zanu-pf (2005) Election manifesto. Harare: Zanu-pf
Zctu (Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions) (1996) Beyond ESAP. Harare: Zctu
Zimbabwe Government (1991) A framework for economic reform. Harare: Zimbabwe
Government
Zimbabwe Human Rights ngo Forum (2005) Zimbabwe: Facts and fictions. Harare:
Zimbabwe Human Rights ngo Forum
Zimbabwe Institute (2004) Playing with fire. Johannesburg: Zimbabwe Institute

7
Unions and parties in South Africa: Cosatu and the anc

in the wake of Polokwane
Roger Southall and Edward Webster
the re-emergence of a powerful trade union movement in South Africa

after the ‘Durban strike wave’1 in 1973 precipitated a fierce debate on the
relationship between unions and political parties. This was recently reignited
by contestations between different factions within the ruling African
National Congress (anc) which took place at the party’s dramatic December
2007 National Conference in Polokwane, at which former Deputy President
Jacob Zuma – who drew much of his support from the Congress of South
African Trade Unions (cosatu) – defeated state President Thabo Mbeki for
the party presidency. The reasons for Zuma’s triumph are dealt with below.
Suffice it to say for the moment that his emergence as the standard-bearer
of the political Left within the anc lay in the marginalisation of cosatu and
the South African Communist Party (sacp) within the tripartite alliance
(which formally links each organisation to the anc) over, among other
matters, the trajectory of economic policy pursued by the government since
1996. However, what concerns us in this chapter is not only what the events
of Polokwane signify, but how they reinforce the divide between competing
narratives about the historical relationship between trade unions and the
liberation movement in South Africa.
It is of considerable relevance that these two narratives were high-
lighted by the publication of the second collection of essays in a five-volume
series of studies dealing with the struggle for democracy in South Africa
(sadet 2006). It is not without relevance to the subject matter of this chapter
131

that, although this series is officially non-partisan, it has the clear backing
of the ruling party; also, its chief editor, Professor Ben Magubane, has long
been an intellectual stalwart of the anc. Thus it is that in Volume 2, which
covers the decade from 1970 to 1980, there are two chapters offering sharply
divergent accounts of the revival of the South African workers’ movement
during the dark days of the 1970s.
The first account presents trade union activity as a seamless web
from the formation of the anc-aligned South African Congress of Trade
Unions (sactu) in 1955, which was suppressed and driven into exile after
the apartheid regime’s clampdown on the liberation movements from 1960,
to the formation of cosatu in 1985. From this perspective, the struggles to
create a democratic trade union movement which took place in the 1970s
were not only ‘rooted in political unionism’ (the strategy advocated by sactu),
and guided by underground sactu activists, but ‘guided by the basic tenets of
the Freedom Charter’ (the democratic platform adopted by the anc and the
Congress Alliance in 1956) (Sithole & Ndlovu 2006: 241).2 For these authors,
it was the national democratic tradition that had inexorably triumphed and
had prevented ‘the attempted take-over by a group of Trotskyites’ (a reference
to the Marxist Worker Tendency [mwt] of the anc, a uk-based group of
activists suspended from the anc in 1979 and expelled in 1985 for attacking
sactu as Stalinist and the anc leadership as ‘a right wing faction whose aims
ran contrary to the interests of the working class in South Africa’ [Sithole &
Ndlovu 2006: 238]). This account argues that although sactu was headquar-
tered in exile, it was central to the revival of trade union activity within the
country, which it ‘combined with efforts to persuade the international labour
movement to rally behind an anti-apartheid programme’ (Sithole & Ndlovu
2006: 241).
The second account subtly shifts the emphasis from the external
to the internal by arguing that the revival of the workers’ movement was
‘realised in the 1970s through the painstaking efforts of people inside the
country prepared to organise … on the basis of the day-to-day problems of
working people’ (Hemson et al. 2008: 248). The authors (two of whom were

central to the mwt) do not deny the influence of sactu, but argue that it was
indirect, its ideas carried forward by anc and sactu activists (who under
conditions of repression could not declare themselves as such), who joined
the new trade unions and ‘adapted to the different tactics put forward in
different regions for building workers’ organisations’ (Hemson et al. 2008:
250). Nonetheless, for all their efforts, sactu activists’ role was only one
aspect of a revival of black trade unionism which drew its impetus from a
diversity of sources and developed its ‘tradition of democratic organisation’
based upon shop-floor organisation and internal trade union democracy.
Given the political constraints under apartheid, the emergent trade unions
were rooted inside the factories, cautious about wider political connections
and sceptical if not critical of the exiled nationalist movements. Yet any
leaning towards economism was already under challenge by the late 1970s,
for state concessions to emergent unionism – trade union recognition, the
growth of collective bargaining, substantial increases in wages, and decisive
mitigation of oppressive conditions of wage labour – carried within them-
selves the opportunities for workers to demand more fundamental political
changes (Hemson et al. 2008: 314). Under the conditions of apartheid,
apolitical trade unionism had no firm basis and ‘[w]hat was built in the 1970s
provided a solid base for the revolutionary struggles of the 1980s’ (Hemson et
al. 2008: 248) and the eventual transition to democracy.
It is frustrating for the reader that this juxtaposition of two very
different accounts of the same set of events and developments is offered
without any engagement between the two sets of authors, for at least two
reasons. The first is that the two chapters effectively carry on a struggle
which took place within sactu in exile during the 1970s and 1980s without
reflecting upon how subsequent scholarship and political developments
have brought into question some of the positions adopted at that time.3 But
second, and of more direct import to our interest here, is that no attempt
is made by the editors to engage directly with the challenge to nationalist
orthodoxy raised by an independent workers’ movement (and as portrayed
here by the proponents of the mwt). Instead, the editors carry the narrative
Unions and parties in South Africa 133

forward as if the workers’ movement is comfortably integrated into the
nationalist movement. 4 Yet it is precisely this issue which has contemporary
political salience, for the outcome of the Polokwane conference has raised
the question anew of whether, and if so to what extent, the dominant trade
union strand within the country is incorporated holistically into the anc.
Consequently, this lack of engagement between the two narratives within
Volume 2 of the South African Democracy Education Trust publications
constitutes a lost opportunity, for the issues that were raised in the debates
of the 1970s are re-emerging today as a new national elite grapples with a
powerful and often intransigent labour movement. As popular struggles
grow in the face of a lack of delivery on key socio-economic issues, struggles
among working people begin to raise questions concerning the autonomy of

organised labour.
The central concern of this chapter centres around what unions
can do to enhance their political influence within a successful liberation
movement while simultaneously protecting their autonomy. More specifi-
cally, how successful has the South African labour movement been in
advancing its autonomy and influence when it has been, and is, closely allied
to the anc and the sacp? Furthermore, are alternative ways of influencing
post-apartheid politics emerging?
In the first part of the chapter we examine union–party relations in
South Africa since the 1950s, showing how each generation of organised
labour has engaged with the nationalist movement. It is argued that the
central role of the sacp in this relationship was displaced in the 1970s with
the emergence of the shop-floor tradition. However, this relationship was
to be formally reconnected in the 1990s, although close links began to be
established from the mid-1980s when the two dominant political traditions,
the national democratic and the shop floor, merged to form cosatu.

We then describe the growing tensions with the Congress Alliance as
the ruling party asserts its hegemony within the alliance. It will be argued
that, increasingly, cosatu felt a sense of marginalisation over social and
economic policy which culminated in open confrontation and growing
attacks on the incumbent anc leadership at Polokwane.
In the second part of the chapter we show how cosatu’s attempt to
contest hegemony in the alliance, and its growing relationship with the sacp,
lead to polarisation within cosatu, cutting across affiliates and resulting in a
closely contested election in September 2006 at cosatu’s ninth congress.
We conclude by arguing that these tensions are inherent in labour’s
relationship with the national democratic tradition. We suggest that it is time
for cosatu to rethink the nature of its historical relationship with both the
anc and the sacp and to evaluate carefully where the trade union movement’s
power lies. Does it lie in aligning itself to the ruling party, or should it rather
develop a multi-pronged approach to power?
The evolution of union–party relations in South Africa

It is possible to identify three different political traditions within the South
African labour movement which have historically shaped the different
perspectives on its relationship with the national liberation struggle. The
first, and most powerful, is the national democratic political tradition.
The national political tradition goes back to the 1920s when trade
unions for black workers first emerged. The sacp – or the Communist Party
of South Africa as it was then called – played a central role in the organisa-
tion of black workers into trade unions during the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s
(for a classic account, see Simons & Simons [1981]). However, it was only in
the 1950s, with the formation of sactu, that labour began to engage with
nationalism as a means of transforming its small factory base. Sactu’s
alliance with the anc and the underground sacp5 resulted in a redefinition of
its trade union role along the lines of ‘political unionism’.

The effect sactu’s political unionism had on the growth of trade
unionism is a matter of debate. Some argue that this alliance led to the
subordination of trade unions to the struggle for national liberation (e.g.
Feit 1975; Fine & Davis 1990); others argue that the alliance facilitated the
growth of trade unions and enabled workers to influence the direction of the
national democratic struggle (e.g. Luckhardt & Wall 1980). The view here
is that where trade unions were not given priority, as in most of what was
then the Transvaal (centred around today’s Gauteng), evidence points to the
subordination of workers’ interests. For instance, whereas a 1957 stay-away –
a trade union-led initiative around a pound-a-day campaign – was a great
success, in contrast, a stay-away in 1958 was a failure, in part because an
essentially trade union campaign was transformed by the Congress Alliance

into a broad protest, coinciding with the white general elections and directed
at influencing white parliamentary politics under the unrealistic slogan, ‘The
Nats must go’ (Hemson 1976).
What is beyond dispute is that during the 1950s, the anc, in alliance
with sactu, established its leadership among the oppressed classes. This
was achieved through mobilising the oppressed – along both race and class
lines – around the demands of the Freedom Charter. Where unions were
given priority, sactu’s participation in the Congress Alliance facilitated
the rapid growth of trade unions in certain regions (Lambert 1985, 1988).
However, it also brought sactu into direct conflict with the apartheid state
so that the organisation felt the full force of repression in the 1960s. As a
consequence, by 1964 it had been forced to cease public activities in South
Africa and had departed into exile.
In the late 1970s this national democratic tradition re-emerged in the
labour movement with the advent of general unions, particularly in the shape
of the South African Allied Workers’ Union, which followed in the tradition
of sactu. Such ‘community unions’ argued that workers’ struggles in
factories and townships were indivisible, and that unions had an obligation
to take up community issues. This national democratic tradition involved a
view that South Africa could not be understood in simple class terms. Social

reality was based upon a ‘colonialism of a special type’ necessitating national
democratic rather than class struggle as the appropriate strategic response.
This therefore argued for a multi-class alliance under the leadership of the
anc, drawing together all sectors of the oppressed black masses and sympa-
thetic whites and aiming at establishing a ‘national democracy’.
Supporters of this view differed over whether it was necessary to pass
through a national democratic stage before achieving a socialist stage (the
‘two-stage theory of revolution’), or whether the national and class struggle
could take place coterminously, stressing that the struggle for national libera-
tion is part of the struggle for socialism.
However, during the 1970s an alternative political tradition developed
within the trade union movement – ‘shop-floor’ unions that first emerged
in 1973 eschewed political action outside the workplace. They believed it
was important to avoid the path taken by sactu in the 1960s. Thus rejecting
competing ‘community unions’ as ‘populist’, the shop-floor unions developed
a cautious policy towards involvement in broader political struggles.6 These
unions (particularly those which were to affiliate to the Federation of South
African Trade Unions [fosatu], which was formed in 1979) emphasised
instead the building of democratic shop-floor structures around the principle
of worker control, accountability and the mandating of worker representa-
tives. This they saw as the basis for developing a working-class leadership
in the factories. Indeed, some within this political tradition supported the
creation of a mass-based working-class party as an alternative to the sacp
(Foster 1982).
It was this, arguably more than any other development, which was to
lead the sacp into virulent attacks on the shop-floor tradition. ‘Our accumu-
lated experience,’ wrote Toussaint (Brian Bunting) in the African Communist:
tells us that the trade unions alone, the workers’ struggle alone will
not in itself, pass beyond the limits of economic struggle against the
employers. To pass beyond that limit, there is need for a clear socialist
theory, which understands the nature and the course of development

of capitalist society, and which can thus point the way in which
socialism can be reached, and the steps that have to be taken to get
there. (Toussaint 1983: 45)
Similarly, in response to the mwt, Vuk’ayibambe wrote:

From the ultra-left flank of the struggle against capital there have
been claims that the Communist Party is not militant and that it
is trailing behind the African National Congress. There are claims
that the Party wastes too much time and energy on the struggle for
national liberation for which the ultra-leftists see no need. Some
university intellectuals have been most vocal in these claims.
Impatience and hop-skip-jumping over vital and objectively necessary

stages of the revolution are characteristic features of ultra-leftism. Our
Party, guided by the fundamental principles of Marxism-Leninism,
has no problem in understanding national democracy as a stage on
the path to a socialist South Africa. (Vuk’ayibambe 1985: 97)
Subsequently, the hostility between these two traditions declined when,

in 1985, cosatu was formed as a ‘strategic compromise’ between the two
dominant political traditions within the democratic labour movement:
that is, between the national democratic and the shop-floor traditions. As
Nyameko (1985: 45) was to write on the 30th anniversary of sactu: ‘sactu
supports the formation of the trade union centre that is now being contem-
plated by leading trade unionists with the cause of liberation against the
apartheid regime.’ From this perspective, the central role that the sacp had
played in the development of black trade unionism in South Africa, which
had been broken with the emergence of the shop-floor tradition, was now
being restored. However, it is argued here that this remained a tenuous
reconnection until the 1990s when the links established in the mid-1980s
were consolidated.

The national democratic and shop-floor traditions of trade unionism
have been predominant in the literature (as well as in mass struggles).
Consequently, it is important to note that the picture of unions and politics
in South Africa presented by (often partisan) commentators has often
been incomplete through neglect of a third political tradition, that of black
consciousness. The origins of the latter lie partly in the Africanist ideology,
articulated by the Pan-Africanist Congress which broke away from the anc in
1959, principally because of the latter’s ‘multiracial’ definition of the nation
(although the American Black Power movement was also highly influential
in forging this political tradition in South Africa) (Gerhart 1978). Black
consciousness has similarities with the national democratic position in that
it holds that racial oppression is a manifestation of national oppression.

However, its emphasis on racial structures and identities virtually excludes
class relations from its analysis. This has often given rise to voluntaristic
and romantic forms of organisation and mobilisation. Nonetheless, by the
late 1970s, a class analysis had been introduced into black consciousness
discourse, whereby class was defined in racial terms. Associated loosely
with the National Council of Trade Unions (nactu), formed in response to
the formation of cosatu, a broadly Africanist and politically non-aligned
grouping, the black consciousness tradition was distinguished from other
traditions by its emphasis on black leadership of trade unions and its opposi-
tion to ‘non-racialism’ in favour of a policy of ‘anti-racism’. This led to this
position’s withdrawal and exclusion from the unity talks which culminated
in December 1985 in the formation of cosatu.
The invasion of the townships by the South African Defence Force in
1984 had placed major pressure upon unions located within the shop-floor
tradition to abandon their ‘workerist’ critique of ‘Charterism’ (or ‘populism’
as it was more pejoratively called), encouraging them to align with the
United Democratic Front, the umbrella organisation of anti-apartheid civic
organisations which had been formed in 1983. Importantly, while cosatu
committed itself to participation in the national democratic struggle under
the leadership of the anc, it joined the tripartite alliance not as a subordinate

partner (as had sactu) but, formally, as an equal player with an independent
power base, strategy and leadership. However, the lifting of the political
ban on the anc in 1990, its return from exile, its entering into negotiations
with the ruling National Party, cosatu’s exclusion from the Convention for
a Democratic South Africa (the forum which negotiated the making of a
new Constitution), and the increasing centrality of political parties to the
transition process meant that the anc came to assert its hegemony over
the alliance. To be sure, during the period 1990–94, cosatu was neither
demobilised nor tamed, and its ability to mobilise mass support for the anc’s
position during negotiations was critical. Nonetheless, with the anc marked
out as the incoming democratic government, cosatu’s position within the
alliance drifted into one of subordinacy (Webster 1998).

Eidelberg (1999) has argued that the anc’s alliance with cosatu
was only superficially a rapprochement with organised labour. The anc’s
emphasis on mass participation in urban warfare after 1979 made it increas-
ingly community oriented and thus by implication identified the movement
with the townships. This community orientation gave it a social base quite
different from that of the industrial unions, and it was ultimately township
support – including elements of the African middle classes, most notably
the civics – which would provide the anc with its main source of strength,
and which made it less attuned to the aspirations of organised labour than
at any time during the previous 30 years. This was to greatly compound
the problems which confronted cosatu after 1994. First, as in post-colonial
situations elsewhere, cosatu was going to have to grapple with the tensions
between its ambitions to enter a constructive partnership on workers’ behalf
with a newly democratic government and the likely tendency of the latter to
demand the subordination of the workers’ interest to the former’s project of
national ‘development’. Second, it was going to have to negotiate the strains
which appear inherent in relations between labour-backed ruling parties and
organised labour in an era of globalisation and neo-liberalism, especially
in late industrialising and developing countries. Where strong emphasis is
placed upon continued cooperation between party and union, these can be

maintained (if at the cost of the subordination of the latter to the former).
However, it appears that more often it leads to marginalisation of the labour
movement and perhaps ultimately to divorce (Webster 2001).
Labour-backed governments initially elicit significant cooperation
from unions in economic reform. So it was, initially, in the case of cosatu.
Not only was cosatu central to the drawing up of the Reconstruction and
Development Programme, but the federation released 20 of its leaders to
stand as candidates for Parliament on the anc’s national list in 1994, and
numerous others to stand for the party for election to provincial legislatures
and, in 1995, to stand in the local government elections. It was an active force
behind the creation of, and an active participant in, the National Economic
Development and Labour Council (nedlac), whose proclaimed objective was

to reach consensus between government, business, labour and community
interests on economic and social policy issues before they were debated in
Parliament; and it was rewarded, albeit not until after something of a trial of
strength with employers, with the passage of the Labour Relations Act (lra)
(No. 66 of 1995), which offered a new vision of work and industrial relations
in South Africa by opening up a path to ‘co-determination’ and a break with
the adversarial culture which had hitherto characterised employer–worker
relations in South Africa (Webster 2001). Cosatu was also to throw its weight
behind the anc in later general elections, and demonstrate its capacity to
mobilise the popular vote behind the government in both 1999 and 2004.7
Although, clearly, organised labour was far more favourably politi-
cally situated than it had been under apartheid, the advantages which
accrued to cosatu through its close association with the anc were to
prove ambiguous. Although former cosatu members became influential,
their presence in government and Parliament brought little return to the
federation as an organisation, for their allegiance now lay primarily to the
anc and they fairly rapidly lost their close ties to labour. In any case, the
loss to cosatu of many of its more senior and active leaders constituted a
considerable ‘brain drain’. Meanwhile, although the lra could be said to be
a positive outcome of the institutionalised representation of diverse interest

groups embodied by nedlac, the government’s imposition of the Growth,
Employment and Reconstruction (gear) macroeconomic strategy (which
was stridently pro-market) confirmed cosatu’s subordination within the
alliance and indicated that large-scale capital and the financial markets were
going to remain far more influential than organised labour with regard to
the making of economic policy. Increasingly, cosatu was to complain bitterly
and vociferously that it was being marginalised within the alliance: used as
an instrument by the anc for mobilising the vote at elections, but otherwise
ignored. Strains became explicit. For instance, in the run-up to the anc’s
national conference of 2002, complaints by the sacp and cosatu that the
government’s turn to neo-liberalism was leading to greater poverty and
unemployment were countered by allegations by Mbeki and the anc leader-

ship that the alliance was being subverted by a shadowy ‘ultra-left’ seeking to
advance its agenda in defiance of agreed policies (Southall 2003). Although
these and subsequent disagreements were usually patched up, differences
between the sacp and cosatu, on the one hand, and the anc hierarchy, on
the other, were never resolved and were to translate from 2005 into the
organised Left’s vocal (although not unanimous) support for Jacob Zuma in
his formally undeclared, but viciously fought, battle to replace Mbeki as anc
president at the anc’s national congress in 2007.
This latter struggle was to divide the anc along a number of major
fault lines. However, its major characteristic was that Zuma managed to
garner the backing of those who felt excluded by Mbeki’s regime (Southall
et al. 2006). These included anc activists denied position and prospect,
business interests refused contracts by the state, and motley Zulu ethnic
elements seeking to counter alleged Xhosa hegemony, yet the principal
element of the support that lay behind Zuma was that it expressed the
discontents of the impoverished masses and the formally unemployed who
felt left behind by the economy.
Much of Zuma’s backing was opportunistic. It was scarcely ideological,
for Zuma’s populist campaign provided no coherent alternative to the govern-
ment’s economic programme. It certainly provided no substantial basis for

cosatu and the sacp to think of breaking from the anc and launching an
independent party of the Left, for two reasons. The first was that, for all that
cosatu’s membership base had demonstrated on numerous occasions that it
was prepared to embark upon militant mass action against the government in
defence of jobs and worker interests, it consistently registered strong support
for the continuance of the alliance and the anc. The second was that, whatever
their discontents with government strategy, leadership elements within both
cosatu and the sacp were too caught up in networks of relative advantage to
take the risk of abandoning ship.
Cosatu’s social composition has changed substantially since the early
1990s, reflecting the decline of unskilled workers and the growth of semi-
skilled and skilled strata among the formally employed workforce over the
last three decades. This has seen the retrenchment of thousands of unskilled
workers and a growing division between ‘relatively privileged employed
workers and the impoverished unemployed’ (Hindson & Crankshaw 1990:
26). Within a context where the liberalisation of the economy (facilitated
by gear) is leading to the growing informalisation of work – through
outsourcing by employers of unskilled work, alongside casualisation and the
erosion of benefits and wage levels which go with permanent jobs – cosatu
increasingly represents a membership base that is older, more skilled, more
highly educated and, importantly, much more secure in its employment
status than typifies the working population as a whole. Furthermore, with
the significant expansion of public sector unions since 1994, around a
third of cosatu workers are now employed directly or indirectly by the state
(Buhlungu 2006b). Consequently, for all its discontents with government
policy, cosatu’s membership has on balance been a significant beneficiary of
anc rule and, not surprisingly, has remained consistently loyal to the anc and
the tripartite alliance in its political affections since 1994, even if the level and
intensity of its support for both has declined significantly over the years.8
Although somewhat less vibrant than in the early 1990s, the level of
internal democracy within cosatu remains high, indicating the survival
of deeply entrenched notions of accountability of union leaders to workers

(Wood & Dibben 2006). There has also been a modest increase in the
proportion of women (who constitute about a third of total membership)
holding leadership positions, although women remain heavily under-
represented among the leadership as a whole, are less likely to participate in
union affairs, and generally feel marginal (Tshoadi & Hlela 2006). Overall,
cosatu workers’ attitudes and activities reflect a deeply embedded political
culture which represents a major asset for South African democracy more
generally (Mackay & Mathoto 2001). Yet less positive changes, reflecting
wider shifts within the labour market, have also taken place within cosatu
and its unions, notably among its leadership cadres.
According to Buhlungu (2003), ‘organisational modernisation’ is
leading to new cleavages and a widening of the gap between union officials
and the bulk of the unionised workforce. Emphasis upon ‘professionalism’
is replacing political and union activism as the qualification for leadership,
giving rise to fears that cosatu unions will fall victim to bureaucratisation
and oligarchy. There remains an important category of leaders who are
‘ideological unionists’ and who are highly ambivalent about organisational
modernisation, being strongly committed to political activism and internal
worker democracy. However, the increasing influence of full-time officials
within the movement signifies a shift in the balance of power towards
‘careerist’ leaders who are technocrats committed to the building of a more
‘efficient’ union movement, but whose links to the shop floor are weakened
by greater job security, a widening wage gap and the prospect of union
employment as a career. Meanwhile, there is also a third type of union
official, ‘the entrepreneur’, who is a product of the accelerated processes of
class formation which have been spawned by the deracialisation of South
African society and related notions of black economic empowerment (bee)
as well as economic liberalisation (Buhlungu 2003). What distinguishes the
entrepreneurial officials is their instrumental and opportunistic approach
to trade unionism, with unions being viewed as stepping stones towards
individual upward social mobility. For instance, they thrive in the environ-

ment of high-level meetings, such as those at the level of the alliance, and
look to such participation as opening doors to employment in the civil service
or government structures.
An overview of cosatu’s location in the post-apartheid political
economy, offered in the wake of the 2004 general election, concluded that
while the organisation could face increasing marginalisation if the anc
continued to implement its pro-market economic strategies, it retained
the capacity to become a forceful ‘Left pressure group’ inside the alliance
pushing for redistributive policies, especially if it linked up to social
movements of the poor outside its ranks (Buhlungu et al. 2006). Both the
level of South Africa’s industrialisation and the legacy of the democratic
unions’ major role within the struggle for liberation provided cosatu with a
degree of autonomy that is unusual for a trade union movement in post-colo-
nial Africa. In essence, this view was suggesting that while the subordination
of cosatu to the anc since 1996 represented the predominance of the
national democratic tradition within the alliance, there remained potential
for the revival of the political salience of the shop-floor tradition of South
African trade unionism, and for this to significantly alter the balance
between the labour movement and the ruling party. It is to an examination
of this thesis that the second part of this chapter is devoted, given the role
that cosatu and the sacp played in propelling Zuma to the anc leadership at
Polokwane.
Cosatu and the anc in the wake of Polokwane
The adoption by the anc-led government of gear in 1996 was justified by

its proponents as vital for attaining macroeconomic stability, rescuing the
economy from bankruptcy (post-apartheid South Africa was heavily in debt)
and avoiding borrowing from the International Monetary Fund (imf), with
the consequent external imposition of a structural adjustment programme
(sap). In essence, the anc leadership therefore opted for an internally driven
sap which would maintain distance from the imf while at the same time

despatching the signal to global markets that South Africa was serious
about ‘economic reform’ and determined to render itself attractive to foreign
investment. From there on, the anc government adhered to a classical
economic orthodoxy and to ‘fiscal responsibility’ that in the eyes of many
leftist critics defined it as ‘neo-liberal’. However, once its immediate objec-
tives of stabilisation had been attained, it was increasingly prepared to amend
its programme – notably by granting greater emphasis to the role that the
state-owned enterprises might play in stimulating growth – from around
2002, when it became fashionable in government and party discourse to pay
homage to the idea of South Africa pursuing the path of a ‘developmental
state’. Whatever the ultimate judgement on this period, a number of factors
stand out. First, although it may be fair to say that realistically it had little
alternative but to pursue stabilisation in the mid-1990s, the anc leadership
embarked on a strategy of capitalist accumulation and development which
many felt was at odds with the party’s historic programme; and second,
buoyed by the upturn in global resource markets, the economy enjoyed an
extended upswing, recording the longest and most consistent pattern of
growth since the 1960s.
This particular trajectory also recorded many costs. First, there were
many direct economic consequences of the government’s vigorous pursuit
of an economic liberalisation that was designed to render South Africa
globally competitive. Above all, the restructuring that took place resulted
in extensive job losses in various industries, notably footwear, clothing and
textiles, which were export oriented and subject to Asian competition. Even
though the government correctly denied the charge that it had steered the
country towards ‘jobless growth’, no serious impact was made upon the level
of unemployment, which hovered around 40 per cent (according to widely
accepted definitions), the number of new entrants to the labour market
increasing at a faster rate than the creation of new jobs. Second, government
cutbacks in public expenditure as part of economic stabilisation led to a
decline in the quality and delivery of public services. Third, the govern-
ment’s strategy of ‘transformation’ – which argued that deracialisation of the

hitherto white-dominated formal economy impeded growth – led, on the one
hand, to the visible emergence of a black middle class within both the public
and private sectors and, on the other, to the equally visible empowerment of
a black political and economic elite which was constructed around both the
anc’s takeover of the state and its promotion of the controversial bee strategy.
The fourth and politically most explosive aspect of the government’s chosen
trajectory was that, despite President Mbeki’s genuine concerns about the
persistence of ‘two economies’ (of wealth and poverty), the levels of social
inequality actually increased even while the economy was increasingly
deracialised. Finally, the failure of the economy to provide jobs and the very
evident association between occupation of political office and acquisition of
income and wealth encouraged a strong focus upon membership of the anc
as prerequisite for opportunity, at considerable expense to its historic role as
the vehicle of a progressive political programme.
The ‘Zuma tsunami’

It was against this disturbing social background and resentment at cosatu’s
marginalisation within the alliance that a ‘Left strategy’ was devised in
tandem with the sacp to ‘capture the anc’ from within, with the formal
objective of shifting government strategy in a pro-poor and pro-working-class
direction. The opportunity was provided by the anc National Conference at
Polokwane in December 2007, at which both the presidency and the National
Executive Committee (nec) of the party would come up for election, with the
implication being that the person elected to head the party would succeed as
president of the country in the general election, which was expected around
June 2009.9 In this circumstance, cosatu and the sacp appreciated they
needed to rally behind an individual as candidate for the party presidency,
the further requirement being that such an individual would be one who
would be able to appeal to ‘the masses’ within and beyond the anc. In the
event, the individual presented himself in the person of Jacob Zuma, whom
events had propelled into opposition to Mbeki (although, as ever within the
anc, no potential candidate for senior office would openly admit to such

ambition, the tradition being for personal ambition to be obscured under
a veneer of duty to the movement if called upon to serve and no divisions
within the party could ever be openly acknowledged).
In June 2005, Zuma had been ‘released’ from his post as deputy
president of the country by President Mbeki, following the conviction of
Shabir Shaik by the High Court, for corruption related to the notorious 1998
arms deal. Zuma had been intimately associated with Shaik, and allegations
had been made in court that the former had been locked into a corrupt
relationship with the latter. In particular, it was implied that, as deputy
president, Zuma had cleared the way for a French multinational company,
Thint, with which Shaik’s company, Nkobi, had a close connection, to secure
a major contract as part of the arms deal. Suffice it to say here that a decision
was made by the National Prosecuting Authority to prosecute Zuma. This
led to an extended legal process as the latter’s legal team fought a vigorous
rearguard action in defence of their client, which saw various attempts to
bring him to trial challenged on a mix of technical and procedural grounds.10
These were eventually successful when, a month before the April 2009
general elections, all charges against Zuma were dropped.
Cosatu had already thrown its weight behind Zuma in March
2005 when, at its annual conference, Secretary General Zwelinzima Vavi
pronounced that any effort to stop Jacob Zuma from succeeding Thabo
Mbeki as the next president of South Africa would be ‘like trying to fight
against the big wave of the tsunami’ (Mail & Guardian Online 7 March 2005).
Yet why was a candidate who was already the media subject of widespread
allegations of corruption and, furthermore, one who had been in Cabinet
at the time of the imposition of gear and who had no particular record of
association with the trade union movement, been selected as the champion
of the Left?
The full story of this surprising choice has yet to be told. However,
the answer would appear to lie in a mix of the following. First, lacking a clear
alternative Left candidate with wide popular appeal, cosatu and the sacp
looked to Zuma as a man who offered a stark personal contrast to Mbeki.

Whereas the latter was widely regarded as an aloof modernist, the former
was a warm and personable figure who, as well as having a record of having
brought people together (he played a major role in securing peace between
the anc and the Inkatha Freedom Party in KwaZulu-Natal prior to the 1994
general election), deliberately cultivated images of himself as a ‘man of the
people’, a ‘freedom fighter’, an Africanist and a traditionalist. In becoming
the standard-bearer of the Left, he also increasingly presented himself as
a long-standing friend of the trade union movement, as well as a unifying
symbol for the downtrodden and oppressed.
Second, Zuma could be presented as a victim of political persecution
and as a counterfoil to Mbeki. The latter’s domination of the anc – boosted
by the party’s strong performance in the 2004 general election – had been
sustained by an increasing centralisation of power, which heightened
cosatu’s sense of marginalisation. When, therefore, it became increas-
ingly apparent that Mbeki was determined to run for a third term as party
president 11 – largely, it would seem, in order to block Zuma – it similarly
became increasingly easy for his every move, and every initiative taken by the
state to secure the latter’s prosecution, to be presented as having a factional
motivation. Third, although there is little doubt that, alongside his support
from the Left, Zuma was backed by a phalanx of supporters who had dubious
connections to labour (ranging from party members denied preference under
Mbeki through to aspirant bee interests and ethnic Zulu elements previ-
ously aligned to the Inkatha Freedom Party), cosatu and the sacp appeared
to believe that they would be able to keep him under control. Indeed, this
was to be indicated when, after Zuma was reported in an interview with the
Financial Mail (22 February 2008) as favouring increased ‘flexibility’ in the
labour market (a stance which implied an erosion of the existing rights of
organised labour), he was swiftly required by cosatu to retract his statement,
indicating that he had been misinterpreted.

Whatever the precise reasons, the culmination was that Zuma
received the strong backing of cosatu and the sacp at Polokwane, and that
this was crucial to his humiliating defeat of Mbeki. This was apparently
achieved by a determined infiltration of cosatu and sacp members into the
branches of the anc across the country, the significance being that 90 per
cent of the delegates to the National Conference are drawn ultimately from
the lowest level (albeit having been filtered upward through party districts
and provinces). Overall, the membership of the party had increased from
around 400 000 at the time of the previous conference to some 640 000
in 2005; this substantial increase almost certainly being accounted for by
an incursion of cosatu and sacp activists.12 In turn, this internal capture of
the party appears to have been facilitated by, on the one hand, an outward
movement from the party since 1994 of middle-class elements and ‘higher
professionals’, as a result of their having been ‘deployed’ into state positions
or having moved into the private sector; on the other hand, significant
numbers of ‘lower professionals’, notably teachers and nurses, have become
increasingly unionised.13 It was therefore easy enough for ‘the Left’ to portray
Mbeki supporters within the party – many of whom were office holders of
one form or another, from local councillors up to senior civil servants – as
an unfairly favoured political elite. Mobilisation was therefore facilitated
by informal networks coming together with bonds of solidarity emerging
between those who felt excluded: thus it was that Zuma’s support was widely
interpreted as coming from a ‘coalition of the aggrieved’ (Webster 2008).
From this perspective, although cosatu was not formally represented
at the conference, it was ‘the elephant in the room’: a force which was not
visible but which nonetheless had a powerful presence (Webster 2008).
Certainly, it was a – and probably the – crucial factor which provided for
systematised backing for a Zuma slate of candidates, as well as for Zuma
himself. Thus Ben Turok, a member of the anc’s Electoral Commission at
the conference, notes that not only did Zuma-leaning candidates win the
top six positions on the nec, but they won by almost identical margins, with
around 60 per cent of the votes cast. Overall:

Even though the Electoral Commission had emphasized that the
ballot was secret and no delegate was bound by any mandate from
their branch or province, voting was almost wholly according to a
slate on both sides. This must have been the most carefully organized
campaign for leadership the anc has ever seen. (Turok 2008)
So was this a takeover by the Left? Turok’s observations are revealing, yet
carefully ambiguous. Although a leftward shift was discernible in both policy
and personnel, the anc remained true to its historic character as ‘a broad
church’. For instance, key bee magnates like Cyril Ramaphosa and Tokyo
Sexwale were both re-elected to the nec while several leaders of the sacp
failed to be either nominated or elected. Nor, indeed, were cosatu leaders

particularly prominent (with the exception of Gwede Mantashe, hitherto
general secretary of the National Union of Mineworkers and chairperson
of the sacp, who was elected general secretary of the anc). Nonetheless,
according to Turok the delegates were drawn largely from a relatively young
political generation (average age, he thought, about 38) who, critically, were
products of Bantu education and lacked the skills needed to advance in a
modern capital-intensive and technological economy. They were, in short,
classical lookers-in upon post-apartheid feasting from outside the tent. Yet
what are the potential consequences of this political turmoil for cosatu’s
longer-term relations with the anc?
Alternative cosatu–anc scenarios

If the formation of cosatu constituted a ‘strategic compromise’ between
the national democratic and shop-floor traditions of trade unionism, it
was one which was far more geared to mobilising for the final overthrow
of apartheid than it was to determining relations between unions and the
anc following the latter’s move into government. The consequence was that
the tensions that existed between the ‘Charterists’ and the ‘workerists’ (or,
more accurately, between ‘Charterism’ and ‘Workerism’) were never fully

resolved, not least because it was to become increasingly apparent over the
years that the former thrust, aligned to the national democratic tradition, was
predominant.
The classic statement for an independent working-class politics was
made by Joe Foster, the general secretary of fosatu, at that organisation’s
national congress in April 1982, and was endorsed by fosatu as its policy.
Against the background of a wide-ranging survey of the historical develop-
ment of trade unions in industrialised countries, Foster addressed the
political role and potential of unions in South Africa. From this perspective,
he observed that given the manner in which capital hid behind the cover of a
racist and oppressive regime, the role of the anc and the Congress Alliance
had been to mobilise the masses in order to challenge the state internally
and internationally. In contrast, the trade union movement had been divided
along racial lines, unions were small and weakly organised both nationally
and in the factories and, consequently, they were unable to provide the basis
for a working-class movement that was seriously able to challenge either the
state or capital. Hence it was that the progressive trade unions located within
sactu became part of the Congress Alliance and the popular struggle against
oppression. However, subsequent changes – the suppression of sactu, the
reappearance of black popular activity and, most importantly, the dramatic
advance of monopoly capital and the greater concentration of workers – had
provided for the development of a potentially more powerful trade union
movement. As a result, workers now needed their own organisations to
counter the growing power of capital and to protect their interests in the
wider society; and as the numbers and importance of workers increased,
so all political movements had to try to win their loyalty as ‘they are such
an important part of society’ (Foster 1982: 148). This necessarily called for
reconsideration of the trade union movement’s relationship to the anc,
for whilst the latter remained at the forefront of the international struggle
against apartheid, the diversity of interests which it represented required that
it continue to maintain its character as a ‘popular mass movement’ (Foster
1982: 148–149):

All the great and successful popular movements have had as their aim
the overthrow of oppressive – most often colonial – regimes. But these
movements cannot and have not in themselves been able to deal with
the particular and fundamental problems of workers. Their task is to
remove regimes that are regarded as illegitimate and unacceptable by
the majority.
It is therefore essential that workers must strive to build their own
powerful and effective organization even whilst they are part of the
wider popular struggle. This organization is necessary to protect and
further worker interests and to ensure that the popular movement is
not hijacked by elements who will in the end have no option but to
turn against their worker supporters.
From this perspective, the strategic objective should be for workers to ‘form
their own powerful and effective organisation within the wider popular
struggle’ (Foster 1982: 150).
Foster’s formulation was to be overtaken by the formation of cosatu,
whose formal position after 1994 was that it had linked up with the anc
within the tripartite alliance as an equal partner. Indeed, there were early
returns to this strategy, with the immediate post-1994 period of ‘corporatism’
delivering a reformed industrial relations regime which was far more favour-
able to workers (in the form of the lra of 1995 and the Basic Conditions
of Employment Act [No. 75 of 1997]) than anything else that had preceded
it. Subsequently, however, following the implementation of gear and the
growing sense within cosatu that it was becoming politically marginalised
by the anc, there were growing calls from the Left of the movement for the
workers’ movement to reconsider its continuing participation within the
alliance and to take the lead in the launch of an independent socialist party.
From this perspective, for instance, it was argued in one particular debate
that, in the wake of gear and its consequent measures such as privatisation
of state assets:

There is no realistic prospect of reconciliation that can heal the deep
wounds and differences between cosatu and the anc … While it is
obvious that cosatu has to fight in negotiations for some concessions
from the anc, they need to prepare for a long and hard fight with
a party that has broken with its militant past and has become the
political representative of world finance capital. Cosatu will have to
face the inevitability of its breakaway from the alliance … cosatu and
the sacp fail to realize that the anc has reached a point of no return
along the neo-liberal path … the crisis today is a defining moment
for cosatu (in) that it imposes the key task of forming, together with
others who share a common perspective, an alternative mass workers’
party. Its main task would be the conquest of political power and the
creation of a socialist republic in which satisfying the interests and
needs of the working class is of paramount importance. (Harvey 2001:
41–45)
The problems with such analyses, however, were manifold, not least because
their romanticism ignored the fundamental issue of anc dominance of the
post-apartheid political arena, the lack of room for manoeuvre this allowed
electorally, and the very real danger that a breakaway workers’ party would
be stillborn (Southall 2001).14 Indeed, it was precisely because of the lack of
political realism underlying this appeal that numerous right-wing commen-
tators favoured cosatu and the sacp forming a workers’ party, for that would
open the way for the anc to link up with liberal and conservative parties
and espouse a programme which would be yet more attuned to the needs of
private capital. In contrast, therefore, the main body of Left opinion remained
in favour of staying within the alliance. This was no doubt in part because
there was recognition of the closure to career possibilities that an abrupt
rupture with the anc would bring to a leadership which, at various levels,
enjoyed privileges and benefits from their relative closeness to power. Rather
than breaking from the alliance, thoughts therefore turned to an alternative
strategy of capturing the anc from within.

The culmination, of course, was the triumph of the Zuma camp at
Polokwane, and the apparent reassertion of the national democratic tradition.
Inevitably, this set off alarm bells in the camp of capital, the Financial Mail (7
March 2008) editorialising that a Zuma presidency would be ‘lunacy’, having
earlier argued that:
The sacp is in the ascendancy. It’s regained the commanding
influence in the anc that it had in exile. Significantly the anc is now
in power. Not since Militant Tendency tried to take over the British
Labour Party has this sort of entryism been so successful. (Financial
Mail 1 February 2008: 8)15
Blade Nzimande, the general secretary of the sacp, had previously observed
that, in the wake of Polokwane, what he termed ‘bourgeois ideologues’
were now digging out the old apartheid ‘rooi gevaar’ tactic and employing
scare tactics to confuse and frighten public opinion. He argued that the
programmes which had emerged from cosatu’s ninth Congress, the sacp’s
12th Congress and the anc’s 52nd National Conference had converged around
a singular commitment to ‘building working class and people’s power’; it
was a ‘developmental agenda for the benefit of the overwhelming majority
of our people’: creating jobs, eradicating poverty and fighting the scourge of
hiv/aids. Indeed, while he called for the sacp to take the lead in the revival
of anc-led mass mobilisation as the foundation for a strengthened alliance,
and for the working class to assert its role as ‘the leading motive force of
the national democratic revolution’, there was nowhere in his rhetoric any
indication of plans for a concerted attack upon capital (Nzimande 2008). The
thrust was rather in favour of greater working-class power within the context
of a push for the ‘developmental state’.
Nzimande’s position was endorsed and elaborated on by cosatu in
a series of statements, notably that of its Central Executive Committee in
The Meaning of Polokwane, a media release dated 28 February. Inter alia, it
asserted that:

◆◆ it was necessary for the working class to defend the gains made at
Polokwane in the face of a right-wing backlash that feared a radical
shift in the policy direction of South Africa.
◆◆ cosatu should strive to ensure its greater weight within policy-
making within the alliance and to ensure that the government at all
levels would remain loyal to the ideas of workers and the poor.
◆◆ cosatu would discuss with the anc and the sacp the need to co-opt
more trade unionists and civil society leaders into the anc’s nec in
order to strengthen the voice of working people.
◆◆ cosatu would pursue the Polokwane Congress mandate for the debate
between itself and the anc on the need for a pact or programme of
action on governance. ‘Cosatu will no longer sign a blank cheque!’

◆◆ cosatu would continue to mobilise on the ground floor and campaign
to save the anc from the ‘clutches of the technocrats who sought to
bureaucratise the liberation movement … (and) to ensure that the
1996 class project is dislodged everywhere’.
◆◆ cosatu would defend its cohesion and coherence by asserting disci-
pline over minorities within its ranks who failed to respect decisions
taken by the majority.
◆◆ cosatu must back the new leadership of the anc but be prepared to
speak out when it makes mistakes and makes statements that have
potential to reverse the gains of Polokwane.
◆◆ cosatu must work for: a clearer elaboration of a progressive develop-
mental state that has a bias towards the working class, a less neutral
relationship with capital, and a more democratic character; acceptance
that South Africa’s growth path has to be fundamentally shifted to
become redistributive and employment creating; and the assertion of
a greater role for the state in driving the economy and the need for a
partial move away from the market and competitiveness.
Subsequently, these positions were to be supplemented by the Declaration of

the Alliance Summit which met in May 2008 and which noted that:

It was agreed that the Alliance will work together to formulate policy,
and monitor its implementation through joint anc/alliance policy
committees and other mechanisms. This will include the drafting of
the anc Election Manifesto for the 2009 elections … These kinds of
interactions will become a permanent feature of alliance processes in
the formulation, implementation and monitoring of policies.16
Such developments indicate the continuing predominance of the national

democratic tradition within cosatu and within the alliance more generally.
Certainly, taken at face value, the triumph of the Left at Polokwane would
seem to assert the greater influence of organised labour politically, less
freedom for the anc in government to act independently (with disregard for
its mass constituency), and overall, the pursuit of a more redistributive and
developmental agenda by those in power. Polokwane, it would seem, repre-
sents an unambiguous triumph of working-class power! However, for all that
it must be admitted that the new situation is one which offers important,
perhaps unprecedented, progressive possibilities, the danger remains that,
like Icarus, cosatu will fly too close to the sun, its wings will melt and
ultimately it will crash to the ground if and when good relations within the
alliance become unsustainable.17
Conclusion: Limits to the national democratic tradition

and the need for an alternative
According to the scenario scripted by cosatu and the sacp, the new leader-
ship of the anc is much more attuned to the needs of its mass constituency.
In the immediate wake of Polokwane, the position of the Alliance was that
now the Mbeki government was bound to follow the dictates of the party
and, subsequently, the anc asserted its muscle in September 2008 when,
following a High Court judgment that there had been executive interfer-
ence in the attempted prosecution of Zuma for corruption, it effectively
dismissed Mbeki from the presidency. Thereafter, during the interim

presidency of Kgalema Motlanthe and subsequently, after Zuma himself had
became president after the anc’s victory in the April 2009 general election,
cosatu and the sacp insisted that the Zuma ascendancy should and would
provide for a fundamental shift in direction of state policy in favour of the
poor. Certainly, there are important indications that in years to come the
Polokwane moment may come to be regarded as a watershed in the course of
the anc’s post-apartheid politics. Nonetheless, there are a variety of indicators
which suggest that future developments may not work out as smoothly as
cosatu and the sacp would wish.
There are, of course, a host of immediate concerns. First and
foremost, despite the official rhetoric which is strongly supportive of Zuma,
the reality of the position is much more ambiguous. For a start, even if he
manages to avoid trial (and conviction) for corruption, there is little doubt
that he remains deeply suspect as a champion of the Left. It is precisely
because, as the Financial Mail (7 March 2008) declared, he is a ‘political
chameleon’ that once in power he could incline more to other constituen-
cies (ranging from large-scale and black empowerment capital through to
conservative African traditionalists) in order to neutralise the impact of
organised worker power. Second, there are strong indications that, behind
the facade of unity within cosatu, there are numerous divisions, reflecting
the wide divide between the factions which lined up behind Mbeki and
Zuma at Polokwane. Indeed, the recent dismissal of Willie Madisha as
general secretary of the South African Democratic Teachers’ Union and as
president of cosatu, for ill-discipline, appears to relate directly to his support
for Mbeki at Polokwane. Third, such factionalism could easily translate
into a scramble for jobs in a new government as the new-found position of
cosatu and the sacp within the alliance is used as a ladder to preferment.
After 1994, it was assumed that the ‘redeployment’ of trade unionists into
Parliament and into government would institutionalise worker influence.
In contrast, such deployees became subject to the discipline of the anc
and increasingly cut off from the trade union movement from which they
had come. In short, incipient careerism among a cohort of trade unionists

presently excluded from official office may constitute as great a danger to
cosatu’s currently stated ambitions as it did during the anc’s first decade of
power. Consequently, while it may well be that Polokwane has set the scene
for the tripartite alliance to become more genuinely a partnership between
its constituent members, there is little precedent – in South Africa or indeed
elsewhere – for even a labour-backed government avoiding a serious disjunc-
ture with organised labour once it confronts economic or other difficulties, as
inevitably it will.
Cosatu is manifestly seeking to buck the trend whereby in post-colo-
nial situations, trade union organisations are subordinated to government
in the name of ‘development’. In part, this is because it lays its claim to
‘exceptionalism’ in the sense that, given the level of industrialisation in

South Africa, the working class is larger, more concentrated and more highly
organised than anywhere else on the continent. Against this, the national
democratic tradition carries within it the dangers of clientism, that is, of
becoming dependent upon the patronage of the ruling party. In such a case,
there is a tendency for the union leadership to become distanced from the
shop floor, where grievances may result in unofficial mobilisation and the
emergence of networks of activists alongside the official union structures. In
contrast, in some African countries – for instance, Zambia and Zimbabwe –
unions have chosen to back a labour-aligned party in opposition to the
government. As in the former case, this can lead to the displacement of the
ruling party and the assumption of power by the party of labour, only for the
new government to trample over its links to its constituency and fall victim
to the temptations of corruption and the demands of international capital; or,
as in the latter case, it can lead to the nationalist party waging a campaign of
violence, brutality and repression against organised labour. It is against the
background of such examples that cosatu has opted to stay within the anc,
yet to assert its right to greater influence and power within it.

As indicated above, the cosatu position has been subjected to
concerted criticism from the Left, notably from critics who claim to speak
from the vantage point of ‘the new social movements’ – mobilisations of
popular support around issues ranging from attempts to fight against privati-
sation to demands for water, electricity, health provision and so on. In South
Africa, as in numerous other countries of the south, such mobilisations take
place, especially among the poor, in contexts of high formal unemployment,
state failure and often state repression. Indeed, not surprisingly given the
commonalities which workers share with the ‘working poor’ in general and
the fact that, increasingly, cosatu membership is made up of a demographi-
cally unrepresentative cohort of workers,18 there is increasing awareness
among most of the trade union movement of the importance of reaching out
to these new social movements. From this perspective, cosatu could become
central to a broadly based alliance which could ‘keep the anc honest’ and true
to its historic programme or provide the basis, in time, for an independent
party of the Left (Lehulere 2005).
In truth, there can be no single, programmatic answer to the
dilemmas posed by union–party relationships, for they are shaped in
different countries by different historical and national circumstances. In
Ghana, for instance, the trade union movement has moved from one of close
connection to the ruling nationalist party (whereby it fell victim to subordina-
tion and repression) to one, in the present era, of autonomy. Significantly,
however, this strategy has been chosen within a country where there are two
major parties and, historically, power has shifted (albeit via various military
interludes) between two political traditions (one more populist, the other
more liberal). Hitherto, in post-apartheid South Africa, there has been little
indication that anc dominance of the political arena is under significant
threat, because for all that there are increasing signs of popular political
dissatisfaction, these have yet to congeal in a political party which can realis-
tically challenge the anc for power. Furthermore, even if such a party was to
come about, it is far from certain that it would inevitably be ‘socialist’. This
is both the strength and the weakness of the new trade union confederation,

the South African Confederation of Trade Unions (sacotu). Sacotu was
recently formed to cosatu’s right by the merger of the historically white-
collar tradition of South African trade unionism (the Federation of Trade
Unions of South Africa) with, ironically, the other minority tradition of trade
unionism which derived from black consciousness and which has explicitly
opted for a strategy of independence from political parties (nactu). While on
the one hand this may spare it from factional political divisions, on the other
it may deprive it of political influence and divorce it from potential allies in
what is, still, a highly politicised society.
From this perspective, it may be that the optimum strategy for cosatu
over time is one which is multi-pronged: one that attempts to maximise its
influence through a mix of power in the workplace, civil society, Parliament,

in corporatist dialogue and, indeed, within the tripartite alliance. This would
recognise, in an age of increasingly globalised capital, the need for the labour
movement to move beyond its traditional source of power (the workplace) to
link up with new sources of power (in the wider national community, and
internationally). While this, for the moment, may leave important political
questions unanswered about how the worker movement as such should relate
to state and corporate power, it moves well beyond the early formulations of
an independent working-class politics while attempting to overcome what
many regard as the inherent limitations of the national democratic tradition.
Notes
1. The wave of strikes which took place in South Africa in 1973 started in Durban, but
rapidly spread to other parts of the country.
2. The Congress Alliance was composed of the anc, the Transvaal and Natal
Indian Congresses, the Coloured People’s Congress, and the (white) Congress of
Democrats as well as sactu.
3. The chapter by Sithole and Ndlovu is a manifestly propagandistic piece which
seeks to legitimate sactu by claiming its primacy to the revival of the black trade
union movement. It does have major merit in that it details the host of sactu
activists, many of them released from jail during the period under consideration,

who committed themselves to the new trade union movement. However, the
chapter rapidly lapses into nationalist triumphalism, its major deficiencies being:
its unproven assertions and exaggeration of sactu ground-floor influence; its
failure to deal with much awkward evidence that sactu activities within the
country at this time were primarily centred around recruitment of activists for
the armed struggle; its unnuanced denigration of international support from
the western trade union federations and the International Confederation of Free
Trade Unions (icftu); and its remarkable exclusion of key sources, notably the
South African Labour Bulletin, in composing its history of the period. In contrast,
the Hemson, Legassick and Ulrich chapter is much more soundly based upon
an understanding of the independent sources of the revival of the internal union
movement, and explicitly critical of sactu-in-exile’s ambivalent if not actively
hostile attitude to the new unions. However, while correctly noting that most
official-level solidarity from the western trade union movement emanated from the
Scandanavian and Dutch unions, the authors omit that this was routed through
the icftu, whose funding was crucial to the emergent union movement.
4. Indeed, in a remarkable opening footnote to their chapter, Hemson, Legassick
and Ulrich record their objection to the editors having changed their original title
to the chapter, ‘The revival of the workers’ movement’ to ‘White activists and the
revival of the workers’ movement’. They remark that this ‘racialisation of the title’
belittles the part played by African workers. However, it can be argued that it does
more than that, as by implicitly departing from the non-racialism of the anc and
sactu (Hemson et al. 2008), it also delegitimises the stance of the authors.
5. The Communist Party was dissolved in 1950 as a result of the Suppression of
Communism Act (No. 44), but reformed underground as the sacp in 1953.
6. For a valuable overview of the development of the trade union movement during
this period, see Friedman (1987).
7. On this aspect, see particularly the cosatu worker surveys conducted by the
Sociology of Work Unit (swop) of the University of the Witwatersrand and partners
for each of the three post-apartheid elections hitherto. See, notably, Ginsburg et al.
(1995) and Buhlungu (2006a).
8. Although having dropped from 82 per cent in 1994 to 66 per cent in 2004, the
level of cosatu workers’ support for the alliance remained high (Pillay 2006: 178).
Surprisingly, workers’ support for the alliance dropped to 56 per cent in 2009, in
part due to the formation of the breakaway Congress of the People.

9. The constitutional position is that it is Parliament which elects the president,
leaving open the possibility that someone other than the majority party leader can
be elected.
10. Meanwhile, the situation was rendered more explosive by Zuma’s arraignment
on a charge of rape which, while ultimately dismissed by the courts, cast serious
doubts upon aspects of his personal behaviour.
11. A position which he could retain after the expiry under the Constitution of his
second term in office as state president.
12. Although anc membership statistics need to be regarded with considerable
caution, given the somewhat disorganised state of the party throughout the
country.
13. The attempt to identify the ‘class character’ of the ‘Zuma tsunami’ will be a
leading task of swop’s envisaged parallel surveys of the membership of cosatu and
the anc in the lead-up to the 2009 general election.

14. The three cosatu worker surveys have demonstrated limited support for an inde-
pendent workers’ party (14 per cent in 1994; 10 per cent in 1998; and 7 per cent in
2004) even while support for the continuation of the alliance has declined, albeit
retaining the support of nearly two-thirds of respondents (76 per cent in 1994; 64
per cent in both 1998 and 2004) (Pillay 2006: 179).
15. Mthombothi B, ‘The enemy within’. Significantly, Mthombothi added: ‘Is it not
now time for the emergence of a new party with a new leadership that is unencum-
bered by old habits?’
16. Available at
http://amadlandawonye.wikispaces.com/Alliance+Summit+Declaration%2C+9-10+M.
17. The new anc leadership has reportedly told cosatu not to interfere in the party’s
internal affairs, with Secretary General Gwede Mantashe stating: ‘The anc can’t be
manipulated into executing a programme taken by cosatu or the sacp Congress’
(Mail & Guardian 14–19 march 2008).
18. Older and more skilled and educated than ordinary working people, as well as
including a growing cohort of white-collar professionals and public sector workers.
References
Buhlungu S (2003) Organisational modernization and new cleavages among full time
union officials in South Africa. Labour, Capital and Society 36(1): 8–39

Buhlungu S (ed.) (2006a) Trade unions and democracy: Cosatu workers’ political
attitudes in South Africa. Cape Town: Hsrc Press
Buhlungu S (2006b) Introduction: Cosatu and the first ten years of democratic tran-
sition in South Africa. In S Buhlungu (ed.) Trade unions and democracy: Cosatu
workers’ political attitudes in South Africa. Cape Town: Hsrc Press
Buhlungu S, Southall R & Webster E (2006) Conclusion: Cosatu and the democratic
transformation of South Africa. In S Buhlungu (ed.) Trade unions and democracy:
Cosatu workers’ political attitudes in South Africa. Cape Town: Hsrc Press
Eidelberg P (1999) Guerrilla warfare and the decline of urban apartheid: The shaping
of a new African middle class and the transformation of the African National
Congress (1975–1985). Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East
XIX(1): 53–60
Feit E (1975) Workers without weapons: The South African Congress of Trade Unions and
the Organization of African Workers. Hamden, Connecticut: Archon Books

Fine R & Davis D (1990) Beyond apartheid: Labour and liberation in South Africa.
Concord, Massachusetts & London: Pluto Press
Foster J (1982) The workers’ struggle: Where does fosatu stand? In D Macshane, M
Plaut & D Ward Power! Black workers, their unions and the struggle for freedom in
South Africa. Nottingham: Spokesman Books
Friedman S (1987) Building tomorrow today: African workers in trade unions 1970–1984.
Johannesburg: Ravan Press
Gerhart G (1978) Black power in South Africa: The evolution of an ideology. Berkeley, Los
Angeles & London: University of California Press
Ginsburg D, Webster E, Southall R, Wood G, Buhlungu S, Maree J, Cherry J, Haines
R & Klerck G (1995) Taking democracy seriously: Worker expectations and parliamen-
tary democracy in South Africa. Durban: Indicator Press
Harvey E (2001) Labour’s defining moment: The anti-privatization strike. South
African Labour Bulletin 25(5): 41–45
Hemson D (1976) Trade unions and the struggle for liberation. Capital and Class 6:
15–30
Hemson D, Legassik M & Ulrich N (2008) White activists and the revival of the
workers’ movement. In South African Democracy Education Trust (Sadet) The
road to democracy in South Africa (volume 2, 1970–1980). Pretoria: Unisa Press
Hindson D & Crankshaw O (1990) New jobs, new skills, new divisions: The changing
structure of South Africa’s workforce. South African Labour Bulletin 15(1): 23–31

Lambert R (1985) Political unionism and working class hegemony: Perspectives on the
South African Congress of Trade Unions, 1955–1965. Labour, Capital and Society
18(2): 244–277
Lambert R (1988) Political unionism in South Africa: The Congress of South African
Trade Unionism, PhD thesis, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg
Lehulere O (2005) The new social movements, cosatu and the ‘New udf’. Khanya: A
Journal for Activists 11: n.p.
Luckhardt K & Wall B (1980) Organize … or starve! The history of the South African
Congress of Trade Unions. London: Lawrence and Wishart
Mackay S & Mathoto M (2001) Worker power: The Congress of South African Trade
Unions and its impact on governance and democracy. Research Report No. 79.
Johannesburg: Centre for Policy Studies
Nyameko RS (1985) Sactu celebrates its 30th birthday: The role of trade unions in the
liberation struggle. African Communist 100: 44–64

Nzimande B (2008) Class, ideological and mass struggles post-Polokwane. Umsebenzi
Online 7, 1. Available at http://groups.google.com/group/umsebenzi-online/
browse_thread/thread/c032bd3f b2c. Accessed on 13 March 2009
Pillay D (2006) Cosatu, alliances and working-class politics. In S Buhlungu (ed.)
Trade unions and democracy: Cosatu workers’ political attitudes in South Africa.
Cape Town: Hsrc Press
Sadet (South African Democracy Education Trust ) (2006) The road to democracy in
South Africa (volume 2, 1970–1980). Pretoria: Unisa Press
Simons J & Simons R (1981) Class and colour in South Africa 1850–1950. London:
International Defence and Aid Fund for Southern Africa
Sithole J & Ndlovu S (2006) The revival of the labour movement, 1970–1980. In South
African Democracy Education Trust (sadet) The road to democracy in South Africa
(volume 2, 1970–1980). Pretoria: Unisa Press
Southall R (2001) Fighting marginalization: Can cosatu rely on the alliance? South
African Labour Bulletin 25(3): 33–39
Southall R (2003) The state of the parties: Struggle within the tripartite alliance and
the decline of opposition. In J Daniel, A Habib & R Southall (eds) The state of the
nation: South Africa 2003–04. Cape Town: Hsrc Press
Southall R, Webster E & Buhlungu S (2006) Anc-Cosatu relations and the battle for
the presidency. In S Buhlungu (ed.) Trade unions and democracy: Cosatu workers’
political attitudes in South Africa. Cape Town: Hsrc Press

Toussaint (1983) A trade union is not a political party: A critique of the speech ‘Where
fosatu stands’. African Communist 94: 35–46
Tshoadi M & Hlela H (2006) The marginalisation of women unionists during South
Africa’s democratic transition. In S Buhlungu (ed.) Trade unions and democracy:
Turok B (2008) From the Freedom Charter to Polokwane: The evolution of anc economic
policy. Cape Town: New Agenda
Vuk’ayibambe (1985) Revolutionary trade unionism and the tasks of the party. African
Communist 103: 94–98
Webster E (1998) The politics of economic reform: Trade unions and democratization
in South Africa. Journal of Contemporary African Studies 16(1): 39–64
Webster E (2001) The Alliance under stress: Governing in a globalizing world. In R
Southall (ed.) Opposition and democracy in South Africa. London: Frank Cass
Webster E (2008) Unions and political parties in Africa: New alliances, strategies and
partnerships. South African Labour Bulletin 32(1): 52–55
Wood G & Dibben P (2006) Broadening internal democracy with a diverse workforce:
Challenges and opportunities. In S Buhlungu (ed.) Trade unions and democracy:

8
Serving workers or serving the party? Trade unions

and politics in Namibia
Herbert Jauch
Introduction
despite the prominent role played by Namibian trade unions in the

country’s liberation struggle, and regardless of the fact that the labour
movement is still among the strongest of Namibia’s ‘civil society’ organisa-
tions, trade unions have lost much of their popularity and political influence in
recent years. Due to Namibia’s large rural population and the underdeveloped
manufacturing sector, trade unions might seem to represent only a minority
of the population. However, as pointed out by Mbuende (1986), there are close
links between the Namibian peasantry and the industrial working class as a
result of the contract labour system, the legacy of which is still visible today.
Workers’ wages contribute significantly to the survival of family members in
the rural areas and Namibia’s industrial workers bear a substantial burden
caused by the widespread unemployment, about 37 per cent nationwide
(Ministry of Labour and Social Welfare 2006: 3). Over the past three decades
a permanent urban working class has emerged, but most workers in formal
sector employment share their income by way of remittances to members of
their extended families in urban and rural areas. The labour force surveys
of 1997, 2000 and 2004 revealed that almost half of Namibia’s national
household incomes are derived from wages and salaries (Ministry of Labour
2001, 2002; Ministry of Labour and Social Welfare 2006).
167

Despite its small population of less than 2 million people, Namibia
has about 30 trade unions split into two federations and several unaffiliated
unions. The largest trade union federation is the National Union of
Namibian Workers (nunw), which represents 60 000–70 000 workers. The
nunw played a key role during Namibia’s liberation struggle and continues
to be affiliated to the ruling South West Africa People’s Organisation (swapo)
party. The second trade union federation is the Trade Union Congress of
Namibia (tucna), which was formed in 2002 by unions that rejected the
nunw’s party political link (Jauch 2004).
This chapter examines the Namibian labour movement 18 years
after independence, with particular emphasis on the nunw and its role in
Namibian politics. The chapter investigates the relationship between the

nunw and the ruling party and the labour federation’s role in promoting a
working-class approach to politics. It is argued that while Namibia’s trade
unions still engage in occasionally radical rhetoric, they have accepted global
capitalism as a given framework in which to operate without challenging its
ideological and material base.
The historic link between the nunw and swapo
The nunw’s history is closely linked to that of swapo as a result of the

history of Namibia’s liberation struggle. Namibian contract workers formed
a central component of swapo in the party’s formative years. The plight of
contract workers – mostly from northern Namibia – was first taken up by the
Ovamboland People’s Congress (opc), which was founded in Cape Town in
1957 mainly by students and intellectuals. Migrant workers in the Namibian
compounds responded enthusiastically to the opc, which expressed their
aspirations. In 1958 the opc became the Ovamboland People’s Organisation
(opo), its central aim being to abolish the contract labour system. The opo’s
demands for ‘political, social and economic emancipation of the people’
reflected the needs of the workers in the compounds. Its message was also
spread to the rural areas through returning migrant workers. In 1960 the opo

was transformed into a national liberation movement – swapo. Its aim was to
establish a unified, independent and democratic Namibia, free from colonial
exploitation and oppression (see Katjavivi 1988; Moleah 1983; Peltola 1995).
Following swapo’s consultative congress in Tanga, Tanzania, in
1969/70, several new departments were established within the party,
including a labour department. Although the congress documents did not
mention the formation of trade unions, a decision to establish the nunw in
exile was taken on 24 April 1970 (Peltola 1995). Its function was primarily to
represent Namibian workers at international fora such as the International
Labour Organisation (ilo). Another aspect of its work in exile was to train
trade unionists under the name of the nunw in the Soviet Union and Angola
(Peltola 1995).
In 1978 the swapo Central Executive Committee decided to affiliate
the nunw to the World Federation of Trade Unions, which provided a link
between the nunw and the socialist countries. In 1979 the nunw set up its
headquarters in Luanda, Angola, under the leadership of John Ya Otto, who
served as swapo secretary of labour and nunw Secretary General at the same
time. Ya Otto prepared a constitution for the nunw for adoption by swapo’s
National Executive Committee, but it was never approved. Some party leaders
even responded negatively to the union initiative, fearing a strong and
independent labour movement after independence (Peltola 1995). These early
tensions between a potential working-class orientation of swapo versus a
nationalist ideology were already decided in favour of the latter in the run-up
to Namibia’s independence.
Nunw as part of the liberation struggle
For Namibian workers inside the country the class struggle was intertwined
with the struggle against racial discrimination and white minority domina-
tion. The class struggle waged by workers was seen as one and the same as
the liberation struggle waged by swapo (Peltola 1995). Thus class differences
Serving workers or serving the party? 169

were blurred and trade unions (membership and leadership alike) regarded
themselves less as representing a particular class than as an integral part of a
broader national liberation movement opposed to apartheid colonialism.
By the mid-1980s over 100 000 troops controlled by South Africa were
inside Namibia, and 80 per cent of the population lived under emergency
regulations. Thousands of Namibians were removed from their homes along
the Angolan border, and fields in the north were destroyed by soldiers who
brutally harassed Namibians. In 1985, the South African apartheid govern-
ment was spending R3 million per day on the war in Namibia. During this
time of repression, community activists started organising at the grassroots
level. Community organisations surged in response to the crises in housing,
employment, health, education and social welfare. In the absence of trade

unions, workers began to take their workplace problems to social workers
at the Roman Catholic Church and the Council of Churches in Namibia. At
that time, the umbrella of the churches provided political activists with a
shield under which they could start organising workers. Unlike trade unions,
which had been crushed by the colonial state, churches were able to operate
across the country. By 1985, workers and community activists had formed a
Workers’ Action Committee in Katutura, which became the forerunner of
trade unions (Bauer 1997).
The nunw unions were formally established from 1986 onwards and
provided workers with an organisational vehicle through which they could
take up workplace grievances as well as broader political issues, which were
always seen as linked to the economic struggle. This occurred firmly within
the swapo fold as the nunw unions openly declared their allegiance to the
liberation struggle and to swapo as the leading organisation in the fight for
independence. The exiled and internal wings of the nunw were merged
during a consolidation congress held in Windhoek in 1989. At that time, the
nunw unions inside Namibia had already established themselves and were a
formidable force among grassroots organisations. They enjoyed huge support
even beyond their membership and played a critical role in ensuring swapo’s
victory in the elections of 1989 (Jauch 2007).

The nunw played a prominent role during the liberation struggle and
in the public policy debates after independence. Its history is in many ways
similar to that of the Congress of South African Trade Unions, as both were
key agencies in terms of mass mobilisation against apartheid and colonial
rule. Like their sister unions in South Africa, the nunw unions linked the
struggle at the workplace with the broader struggle for political independ-
ence and formed links with other social and political organisations such as
women’s and students’ organisations. The nunw understood its role as that
of a social movement, which could not address workers’ issues separately
from those affecting the broader community. Exploitation at the workplace
was thus linked to the broader struggle against racial and political oppression
(Jauch 2007). Thus the trend in Namibia conformed to that observed in many
African states where trade unions played a key role in the democratisation
process. Sidibe and Venturi (1998) attributed this to three major factors which
enabled trade unions to play that role: firstly, their long history of struggle;
secondly, their massive potential for organisation and action; and thirdly, their
expectation that democracy would benefit workers and trade unions.
Trade unions and the party after independence
The nunw maintained its links with swapo after independence through its
continued affiliation to the ruling party. This link has led to heated debates
both within and outside the federation. While the majority of nunw affiliates
argued that a continued affiliation would help the federation to influence
policies, critics have pointed out that the affiliation would undermine the
independence of the labour movement and that it would wipe out prospects
for trade union unity in Namibia. This issue was hotly debated during the
nunw’s congresses in 1993 and 1998, and both congresses confirmed the
federation’s political affiliation.
An affiliation accord between the nunw and swapo was signed in
1997. This accord states that the affiliation shall be based on the independ-
ence and decision-making autonomy of both organisations. It also states that

consultations will guide the relationship and that both organisations are
mandated to work in the interests of their members – subject to the broader
principles enshrined in the swapo constitution.
The accord stipulates that the nunw recognises swapo as the
senior partner in the relationship and agrees to work jointly for economic
reconstruction and social development in Namibia. Both parties commit
themselves to the principles of popular mandates from their structures
whenever any joint action is taken. In addition, ‘The rank and file members
of the affiliated industrial unions will be encouraged to participate in the
party structures based on the principle of freedom of association’ (nunw &
swapo Party 1997: 2).
The nunw defends the affiliation as a useful tool for influencing

decision-making within swapo. The nunw believes it was successful in
influencing the drafting of the National Development Plan and amendments
to the Export Processing Zone (epz) Act (No. 9 of 1995), as well as in the
setting up of the Labour Advisory Council. The case of Namibia’s epz Act
was a particularly interesting one. When the Namibian Parliament passed
this Act in 1995, it stated that the Labour Act of 1992 would not apply in the
country’s epzs . Instead, the epz Act empowered the Minister of Trade and
Industry, in consultation with the Minister of Labour, to make regulations
regarding basic conditions of employment, termination of employment and
disciplinary actions, as well as health, safety and welfare conditions. The
Namibian government argued that both local and foreign investment in the
first five years of independence had been disappointing and that epzs were
the only solution to high unemployment. President Sam Nujoma described
the non-application of the Labour Act as necessary to allay investors’ fears
of possible industrial unrest. He promised that regulations on conditions
of employment would be put in place to address the fears of workers. In the
meantime, however, he declared that ‘the non-application of Namibia’s Code
in the epz Regime is a delicate compromise which is necessary to achieve the
larger goal of job creation’ (The Namibian 30 October 1995).

The nunw, on the other hand, opposed the exclusion of the epz from
the Labour Act as a violation of both the ilo Convention and Namibia’s
Constitution. The union federation instructed its lawyers to challenge
the constitutionality of the epz Act in court. However, during a high-level
meeting between the government, swapo and the nunw, on 21 August 1995
a compromise was reached. It stipulated that the Labour Act would apply
in the epzs , but that strikes and lockouts would be outlawed for a period
of five years (The Namibian 24 March 1995, 23 August 1995). Although this
compromise was greeted with mixed responses from Namibian unionists, it
was formally endorsed during a special meeting between the nunw and its
affiliates in September 1995 (Endresen & Jauch 2000).
Supporters of the affiliation among the leaders of the nunw and

its affiliates believe that the affiliation assisted the federation to influence
policies in favour of workers. The general secretary of an affiliate remarked:
‘The affiliation helps the nunw to influence certain policies because it is
easier for the unions to go to the president if they are affiliated to swapo’
(Jauch 1999: 35).
On the other hand, trade union leaders generally believe that a trade
union’s independence in decision-making and carrying out activities has to
be protected, and that neither the government nor the ruling party should
be allowed to influence union decisions. Some nunw affiliates admitted that
both swapo and the government may try to influence union decisions indi-
rectly: ‘Maybe it can be done indirectly by influencing influential individuals.
For example, associate members can play an important part in influencing
decisions.’1 Others pointed out that the nunw’s political affiliation hampered
their work: ‘The nunw should disaffiliate from the ruling party. You don’t
need to be affiliated to a political party to be recognised or to be powerful.
Our union is suffering because of this’ (Jauch 1999: 34).
Namibian trade unionists are aware that the question of the nunw’s
political affiliation to swapo lies at the heart of the current divisions within
the Namibian labour movement. The dilemma of splitting workers along

party political lines rather than uniting all workers under one umbrella is
not unique to Namibia. Other southern African trade unions experienced
a similar challenge. During a meeting of the Southern African Trade
Union Co-ordinating Council in November 1998, for example, Zambian
and Zimbabwean unionists pointed out that at some stage they had also
maintained a close relationship with their respective ruling parties, but came
to recognise the need to be independent in order to defend their members’
interests, which often ran contrary to government policies (Jauch 1999).
Trade unions outside the nunw have repeatedly stated that they differ
fundamentally from the nunw over the question of political affiliation.
They charge that the nunw cannot act independently and play the role of a
watchdog over government as long as it is linked to the ruling party. There

is also a growing public perception that the nunw is merely a workers’ wing
of the ruling party, although the nunw and its affiliates have on several
occasions been vocal critics of government policies (Jauch 2007).
Historically, swapo has claimed to play the vanguard role in the
liberation struggle ‘of the oppressed and exploited people of Namibia. In
fulfilling its vanguard role, swapo organises, unites, inspires, orientates
and leads the broad masses of the working Namibian people in the struggle
for national and social liberation’ (swapo constitution of 1976, quoted in
swapo 1981: 257). Swapo’s political programme of 1976 was characterised by
socialist rhetoric, inspired by the newly won independence of Mozambique
and Angola and by the support rendered by the Soviet Union to Namibia’s
liberation struggle. It stated that one of swapo’s key tasks was, ‘To unite
all Namibian people, particularly the working class, the peasantry and
progressive intellectuals, into a vanguard party capable of safeguarding
national independence and of building a classless, non-exploitative society
based on the ideals and principles of scientific socialism’ (swapo 1981: 275).
However, as the crisis in the Soviet Union deepened in the 1980s, coupled
with the counter-revolutionary wars in Angola and Mozambique and the

refusal by the South African apartheid regime to implement un Resolution
435, which was meant to pave the way for Namibia’s independence, it
became clear that swapo regarded national independence (and not the
proletarian revolution) as the primary goal of its struggle. A contributing
factor to this shift was swapo’s attempt to seek western support for Namibia’s
independence by showing allegiance to market-related economic policies
(Fanuel Tjingaete, in The Times of Namibia February 1989). This was clearly
reflected in the party’s policy proposals for an independent Namibia in the
late 1980s as well as the election manifesto of 1989. When swapo’s Economic
Policy Position Document was released in November 1988, it no longer
called for the nationalisation of key industries but instead promised ‘fair and
just compensation in those instances where state acquisition of assets from

private hands is considered necessary for the rebuilding and restructuring
of Namibia’s national economy’ (The Namibian 27 January 1989). Swapo’s
secretary for economics at the time, Ben Amathila, confirmed this line of
thought when he declared that it was not swapo’s intention to nationalise
mining companies. Instead, the party envisaged using ‘revenue from
mining to diversify production in other sectors, to decrease the economic
imbalance, break dependency on South Africa and give Namibia a better
chance for development … A greater part of the mining sector’s profits should
be reinvested here, for diversification, training and economic growth’ (The
Namibian 21 November 1989). Furthermore, Amathila assured white farmers
that swapo recognised ‘the titles they hold on farms, whether inherited or
acquired. We do not interfere with land ownership as set out at present’. He
merely appealed to those who have more land available than they need to
‘consider the government’s plea to make that land available … We foresee
a mixed economy for the simple reason that the present structure of the
economy is such that we may not be able to afford any drastic rearrangement.
For change from the present state to be effective, it must be gradual’ (The
Namibian 21 November 1989). Thus the socialist rhetoric of the 1970s was

replaced by the ‘pragmatism’ of accepting a non-racial capitalist order,
enshrined later on as ‘mixed economy’ in the Constitution of independent
Namibia. What did this mean for Namibia’s trade unions?
Defining a new role
The achievement of independence in 1990 required a redefinition of the role

that trade unions wanted (and were able) to play. Given the close structural
links between the nunw unions and swapo, as well as the fact that most
union leaders played a prominent role in the party too, there was a wide-
spread expectation among workers that the swapo government would be
a ‘workers’ government’. A few years before independence, leading swapo

intellectuals like Kaire Mbuende had still argued that the interests of workers
and peasants constituted the dominant position in swapo (Mbuende 1986).
However, the ideological shift in swapo in the 1980s towards the acceptance
of a capitalist order was rapidly consolidated once swapo became Namibia’s
ruling party. Revolutionary working-class politics were simply dropped while
the capitalist structure of the economy was maintained and the notion of
social partnership was introduced into labour relations. Trade unions were
expected to define a new role within this framework and although the nunw
had previously called for more radical change, it accepted the new framework
with little resistance.
Trade unions have failed to mount a coherent challenge to the
ideology of neo-liberalism and have failed to alter the ‘bourgeois hegemony’.
Gramsci argued that the advance to socialism would require the labour
movement to build a counter-hegemony through a prolonged process of
moral and ideological reform (Simon 1991). Applied to Namibia, Gramsci’s
notion of working-class hegemony would have required the nunw to engage
in a new form of social movement unionism through which working-class
interests could be articulated beyond the point of production in alliance with
other socially excluded groups. Such a strategy was implemented with some
success in Namibia during the second half of the 1980s when a broad alliance

of trade unions, churches, students’ and women’s organisations opposed the
colonial apartheid regime. This broad-based movement had reached wide-
spread popular support in 1988, as reflected in the students’ boycotts and the
general strike of June 1988.
However, with the attainment of independence, the leading civil
society organisations were demobilised and decision-making power
shifted decisively towards party structures. As the leaders of the liberation
movement entered the corridors of state power, arranging themselves with
the interests of both local and international capital, they encountered little
resistance to their chartered course of establishing a stable environment
for non-racial capitalism in an independent Namibia. The secondary role
allocated to trade unions and working-class interests was reflected in the way
tripartism and social partnership became the cornerstone of labour relations
after independence.
A clear demonstration of the failure of labour to assert its interests
was the introduction of conservative economic policies after independence.
The nunw tried to raise workers’ concerns mostly through meetings with
swapo leaders and government officials, and only on very few occasions
resorted to more militant action like demonstrations. Thus the nunw’s
strategy was based on lobbying while to a large extent demobilising its own
membership.
The nunw’s task of influencing broader socio-economic policies in
favour of its working class base proved to be extremely difficult in the
face of an onslaught by the neo-liberal ideology that both business and
the Namibian government portrayed as the only practical policy option
for Namibia. Klerck accurately described the Namibian government’s
response to globalisation as: … an open-ended encouragement of
foreign investment; the marital stance towards the International
Monetary Fund [imf] and World Bank; the confinement of social trans-
formation to an extension of representative institutions; a tendency to
reduce black empowerment to increasing the black entrepreneurial

classes; and a failure to conceive of an economic policy that departs
in substance from that of the colonial powers. (Klerck & Sycholt 1997:
364)
Imf and World Bank advisors have become regular visitors to Namibia and
have ‘assisted’ with the country’s public expenditure review, with educational
reforms and with ‘training’ high-ranking staff members of government
economic institutions. Local economists by and large are trapped in the
neo-liberal dogma and continue to promote the very policies (e.g. structural
adjustment programmes) that have caused severe social hardships in other
Southern African Development Community countries. The Namibian
government’s increasing slide towards neo-liberal policies manifested itself,

for example, in the introduction of epzs and privatisation programmes.
Opposition to such policies by the labour movement was frequently
countered with accusations that trade unions were still living in the (ideo-
logical) past and that trade unions were obstacles to economic growth and job
creation (Jauch 2007).
The events around the controversial Ramatex investment in Namibia
exemplify this point. Ramatex is a Malaysian clothing and textile company
that started operating in Namibia in 2002 as an epz company, with the
promise of creating close to 10 000 jobs. Besides receiving all the usual
epz benefits – such as tax holidays, and duty-free imports and exports –
the Namibian government went as far as building infrastructure for the
company, spending more than n$100 million (about us$10 million)2 in the
process. Futhermore, Ramatex received water and electricity at subsidised
rates. The company’s operations were controversial from the start as it
polluted the groundwater with its industrial waste and embarked on some
of the most ruthless and exploitative labour practices seen in Namibia
after independence. Trade union efforts to recruit workers and to negotiate
for better employment conditions were met with fierce resistance by the
company management. The Namibian government shielded the company

against criticism and went as far as accusing critics of being a threat to the
national interest. Trade unions were warned to moderate their demands and
not to scare away investors.
By 2004, Ramatex employed about 7 000 workers, including about
1 500 migrant workers from China, Bangladesh and the Philippines. In
2005, following the end of the global textile quotas, about 1 500 workers were
retrenched and it became apparent that the company was planning to shift
its production to Asia. Further retrenchments occurred throughout 2006
and 2007. After working for four years for meagre salaries of n$3 (us$0.3)
per hour without any benefits, the Namibian Ramatex workers finally went
on strike in October 2006, achieving significant improvements in their
conditions of employment. The company had threatened that any strike

would lead to the closure of the factory and the Namibian government, in
collaboration with some trade union leaders, tried to intervene to prevent
the strike. Thus it was essentially the workers’ own determination, rather
than a militant union strategy, that forced the company to meet several of the
workers’demands (see Jauch 2008; Jauch & Shindondola 2003).
In March 2008, Ramatex closed down the factory without giving
any notice. Workers found themselves locked out and management tried to
skip the country. Machinery and equipment had been shipped out during
the preceding months and it took government intervention to force the
company to negotiate with the recognised union and to pay at least the
legally prescribed retrenchment packages. Over 3 000 workers were left
stranded and unemployed while the city of Windhoek had to spend millions
of Namibian dollars to deal with the environmental damage caused by the
company (The Namibian 5 December 2008).
Namibia today provides an example of what Gramsci termed
‘bourgeois hegemony’, where business interests are portrayed as constituting
the ‘national interest’ and are accepted by subordinate classes, including
significant sections of the trade union movement. Despite the desperate

material situation of the majority of Namibia’s working people (see for
example Karamata 2006; Karuuombe 2002; Larri 2003, 2007; Mwilima
2006), trade unions failed to build a counter-hegemony through the political
and ideological struggle for a transformation in popular consciousness
based on socialist values. Instead, trade unions were confined to a narrow
‘economistic’ struggle around ‘bread and butter’ issues, mostly in the form of
collective bargaining.
Social partnership?
Once in office, the swapo government embarked on a path of reforming

Namibia’s colonial labour relations system. The overall aim was to move
towards a new system of ‘social partnership’ governed by the Labour Act of
1992. Tripartite consultations and collective bargaining were seen as critical
for the implementation of this new labour dispensation. The government
envisaged an improvement in the living and working conditions of Namibian
workers, to be brought about by a combination of successful economic
policies and successful trade union engagement with the private sector. The
government defined its own role merely as that of a ‘referee’, trying to create
a level (and enabling) playing field for collective bargaining between business
and labour (Jauch 2007).
In post-war Western Europe, social partnership was introduced as a
class compromise, granting workers improved living and working conditions
in return for acceptance of the capitalist mode of production and industrial
peace (Bergene 2005). Namibia’s version of social partnership, however, was
essentially a reward from the swapo government to its working-class base,
which had played a decisive role in ensuring the 1989 election victory. Social
partnership did not represent a move towards granting labour a ‘special’
status in the post-independence dispensation. The consultative process
leading to the formulation of the Labour Act, for example, was driven by
government as the dominant partner, which decided on the scope of the
consultations. Unlike in a corporatist, institutionalised arrangement – such

as in the classical cases of post-war, social democratic Sweden and
Germany – where capital, labour and state jointly formulate socio-economic
policies (Klerck & Sycholt 1997), social partnership in Namibia never took the
form of a joint decision-making process.
Although the 1992 Labour Act constituted a significant improvement
compared with the previous colonial labour legislation, it was a compromise
between the conflicting interests of capital and labour. It extended its coverage
to all workers, including domestic workers, farm workers and the public
service. The new law encouraged collective bargaining, entrenched basic
workers’ and trade union rights, set out the procedures for legal strikes and
provided protections against unfair labour practices (Bauer 1993). However,
the Act fell short of some of the expectations of trade unions, which felt
that employers had unduly influenced the law through ‘behind the scenes’
lobbying. For instance, the Act did not make provision for minimum wages (as
swapo had promised in its 1989 election manifesto) and it did not guarantee
paid maternity leave. Payment during maternity leave was only introduced
with the Social Security Act (No. 34) of 1996. Other key demands of the nunw
that were not accommodated in the 1992 Labour Act were the 40-hour working
week and 21 days of annual leave for all workers (Jauch 1996).
Overall, post-independence labour legislation constituted a signifi-
cant improvement for labour, but it also served to reduce worker militancy
by shifting the emphasis away from workplace struggles to negotiations
between union leaders and management. Bargaining issues in Namibia
were (and still are) narrowly defined and usually deal only with conditions
of employment (Klerck et al. 1997). Trade unions’ main function was thus
narrowed to being the representative of workers in a tripartite arrange-
ment. Thus Bergene’s (2005: 104) observation that the class compromise in
post-war Europe led to ‘the embourgeosiement [sic] and de-radicalisation
of workers, and the de-politicisation of trade unions’ might be applicable
to Namibia to some extent. Trade union militancy certainly declined after

independence although there was no material base to co-opt the working
class as a whole. Instead, improvement of living and working conditions
through collective bargaining only benefited the well-organised industrial
workers, like those in the mining and fishing industries as well as those
in the public service, while the vast majority of the working class – the
unemployed, informal sector workers, casual workers, domestic workers,
etc. – did not benefit and thus still experience high levels of poverty. Even
in sectors where minimum wages were formally introduced, like those for
farm workers and security guards in 2003 and 2005 respectively, workers
remained exposed to highly exploitative practices (Jauch 2007).
The post-independence period brought about a layer of trade union
bureaucrats whose material standards of living are significantly higher than

those of the average trade union member and who have entered company
boards as directors, the latter as part of an ill-defined trade union invest-
ment strategy. This contributed to the creation of a trade union bureaucracy
that had a material interest in limiting the class struggle to reforms within
capitalism (see Luxemburg [1906] and Callinicos [1995], in Bergene [2005]).
These union officials regard the interests of labour and capital as reconcilable
and thus increasingly spend their time on bargaining, so isolating themselves
from the workers they represent. Thus negotiations, compromise and recon-
ciliation are the strategies employed at the expense of more militant action.
This trend is visible in Namibia today where the trade union activists
of the 1980s who organised workers under extremely harsh conditions,
including threats to their lives, were gradually replaced by union leaders
who regard trade unionism as a career option or as a springboard to ‘greener
pastures’ in government or the private sector. It is symptomatic in this regard
that the current president of the nunw as well as the two vice-presidents
are all managers, either in the civil service or in parastatals. Notions of
worker democracy, worker control and social transformation that had just
emerged in the late 1980s were not developed into a coherent concept within
the labour movement and were gradually replaced by more hierarchical and
bureaucratic forms of organisation in the post-independence era.

Against the background of huge imbalances in terms of economic
power between capital and labour in Namibia, the state’s chosen role as
‘neutral referee’ and creator of an enabling environment for collective
bargaining effectively benefited business interests. Business representatives
went as far as describing worker militancy as an obstacle to job creation and
economic development. Such sentiments were echoed by some government
officials and politicians, and even found resonance amongst some union
leaders who were reluctant to support militant workers’ actions against
exploitative practices. The Ramatex strike of 2006 is a case in point when
union leaders were torn between loyalty to government and the ruling
party (who wanted to avert the strike) and to their own members who were
determined to act.
The notion of social partnership in Namibia is more of an ideological
construct than a reflection of the country’s social and economic balance
of power. Capital is not under pressure to make substantive concessions
towards labour. Instead, as Wahl (2004) pointed out, capital pursues an
increasingly confrontational policy towards labour once the foundation for
the class compromise disappears. Any hope for a national ‘social pact’ under
such conditions is illusory and based on a lack of a proper understanding of
the current power relations (cited in Bergene 2005).
Divisions and the crisis of representation
Like trade unions elsewhere, the Namibian labour movement was confronted
with the threat of a dwindling membership base due to the increasing
‘casualisation’ of work, the increase in ‘flexible’ forms of employment and
a growing informalisation of the economy. In an attempt to cut labour
costs and to curb trade union influence, employers in various economic
sectors, including retail, fishing, mining, hospitality and manufacturing,
resorted to temporary and casual work contracts for low-skilled workers.
The emergence of labour hire companies (labour brokers), in the late 1990s
in particular, highlighted the threat of ‘casualisation’ to workers’ incomes,

job security and benefits. By 2006, over 12 000 workers were already
employed through labour hire companies, which retained a significant part
of workers’ earnings as their fees and deprived them of the benefits enjoyed
by permanent workers. Due to the insecurity of their contracts and their
shifts between different workplaces, trade unions found it very difficult to
recruit and represent labour hire workers (see Jauch & Mwilima 2006). Thus
trade union membership has become increasingly narrow in focus, covering
permanent workers in ‘traditional’ sectors such as the public service, mining,
fishing, construction and retail, while unions are unable to reach tens of
thousands of workers in precarious working conditions on farms, in private
households, in labour hire companies and in the informal economy.
Namibia’s labour market today essentially consists of four distinct

layers:
◆◆ a small elite enjoying a standard of living comparable to that in
so-called First World countries;
◆◆ a significant group of formal sector workers with permanent jobs and
low to middle incomes;
◆◆ a growing group of casual workers and labour hire workers who are
the victims of a labour market that virtually forces them to accept any
job under any conditions; and
◆◆ unemployed workers who turned to the informal economy, to sex work
or to crime as a last resort (Jauch 2007).
Namibia’s trade unions essentially organise amongst the second group of

workers and thus represent only a section of the working class. Furthermore,
the labour movement is deeply divided and failed to live up to the proclaimed
ideal of ‘one country, one federation’ and ‘one industry, one union’. A
multitude of trade unions compete with each other for membership, for
example in the fishing and security industries. Even at federation level, the
nunw now faces a significant rival. The Namibia People’s Social Movement
and the Namibia Federation of Trade Unions merged in 2002 to form the
tucna, which has 14 affiliates with a combined membership of about 45 000.

The tucna unions focus predominantly on workplace issues, claim to be
non-political and are less engaged with policy issues than the nunw, which
represents about 70 000 workers. The main dividing line between the two
federations is the question of the nunw’s affiliation to swapo, which the
tucna unions reject.
There are, however, even divisions within the nunw. These emerged
strongly in the years following the swapo party’s extraordinary congress
of 2004, during which a presidential successor to the founding president
Sam Nujoma was chosen. Swapo essentially split into camps supporting
different candidates and the nunw and its affiliates were drawn into the
battle. Although there were no significant ideological differences between
those in swapo who supported Hidipo Hamutenya and those who supported
Sam Nujoma, the union federation became fragmented. In the run-up to the
nunw congress in 2006, the former acting Secretary General of the nunw,
Peter Naholo, who was regarded as part of the ‘Hamutenya group’, was
removed from his post in December 2005. This set the stage for the months
to come as trade union leaders mobilised intensively with a view to ensuring
that candidates loyal to their own ‘camp’ would be elected at the congress in
April 2006 (New Era 4, 10, 11, 20, 26, 28 April 2006; Republikein 31 March
2006). During the congress, this battle for political control overshadowed
proceedings despite the many labour, social and economic issues that
workers had raised during their regional conferences in preparation for
the congress. As the ‘Nujoma group’ among the nunw congress delegates
gained the upper hand during the congress deliberations, an unprecedented
step was taken to cancel individual elections for each leadership position.
Instead, congress endorsed the list of candidates that the ‘Nujoma group’ had
proposed (Jauch 2007).
In the aftermath of the nunw congress, the political divisions
lingered on and were visible among affiliated unions such as the Namibia
National Teachers’ Union, whose 2006 congress was also shaped by rivalries
between the Nujoma and Hamutenya camps (New Era 4 April, 10 April, 11
April, 20 April, 26 April, 28 April, 18 May, 24 May, 26 May 2006).

Conclusion
After 18 years of independence, Namibia’s labour movement finds itself

in deep crisis. Workers and their trade unions have had to realise that the
changes after independence did not lead to the expected socio-economic
transformation. There are signs that the labour movement has lost its vision
and now struggles to develop a strategy around how to play a meaningful role
in the process of social change. Deep political divisions, not only between the
nunw and its rival federation tucna, but also within the nunw itself, worsen
this dilemma. These divisions may serve individual political interests but
they undermine the potential power of the Namibian labour movement as a
whole. A multitude of trade unions that are unable to work with each other
cannot provide Namibian workers with the strong organisational base needed
to advance a working-class agenda.
Namibia’s trade unions are characterised by a lack of ideological
clarity. The statements and practices of several trade unions during the past
few years have revealed deep-seated ideological contradictions. Sentiments
of radical nationalism and liberation, for example on the land issue, have
been combined with an acceptance of neo-liberalism as the ideology of
the ‘free market’. As trade union leaders entered (and continue to enter)
company boards as part of a poorly defined union investment strategy, their
views (and interests) increasingly converged with those of government and
business. Also, some trade union leaders are now occupying management
positions in the public and private sectors, which contradicts the principle
of worker control within unions. These developments point to a lack of
clarity regarding the working-class base of the labour movement and
whose interests it is meant to serve. Nationalist and ‘populist’ sentiments
are dominant and trade unions hardly advance positions based on a class
analysis.
Those unions that oppose the nunw’s link to swapo do not base their
position on a working-class ideology but merely claim allegiance to a ‘non-
political’ trade union ‘independence’, which essentially amounts to confining

labour’s role narrowly to the economic sphere without challenging capital’s
hegemony through ideological and political struggles. Economic struggles
are thus confined to collective bargaining within a capitalist framework.
Such an approach is insufficient to address Namibia’s huge socio-economic
inequalities and there is currently no material or political base to win signifi-
cant concessions for labour through social partnership arrangements.
In order to become an engine of social change, trade unions will
have to deepen their roots in Namibia’s working-class constituency and
articulate its interests beyond the workplace. This requires a dedicated
cadre of activists and worker leaders who can develop effective strategies to
build a counter-hegemonic bloc against capital’s dominant influence in the
economic, political and ideological arenas. Linking short-term demands with

the long-term goal of social transformation could be a strategy for building
solidarity between workers and other sections of the dispossessed.
Confronting the current crisis is thus a mammoth task. Trade
unions on their own might not be able to chart a revolutionary course
that challenges the existing relations of production. Instead, they might
be preoccupied with short-term achievements around bread and butter
issues. However, Namibian unions have a long experience of struggle and a
significant potential for organisation and action. Trade unions have struc-
tures (although sometimes weak) all over the country and a still significant
membership base. Thus they still have the potential to become – at the very
least – an effective pressure group for more fundamental socio-economic
change, so playing an important role in the ‘war of position’ that Gramsci
suggests is central in contesting hegemony. This will require trade unions
to strengthen their internal capacity to engage in economic, political and
ideological struggles; to free themselves from the influence of conserva-
tive and reformist political parties; and to form alliances with progressive
organisations that represent the interests of socially disadvantaged groups,
with a view to building a new hegemonic social bloc to advance working-class
interests.

Namibia’s trade unions face two possible scenarios today. Provided
they can meet the challenges outlined above and redefine their role as
‘struggle organisations’ with a specific class base and a strategic agenda,
they may once again become influential social actors. Failure to seize this
opportunity will result in Namibian unions continuously losing their mass
base while union leaders are absorbed with bargaining issues, party political
careers, union investments and tripartite participation without addressing
(and challenging) the fundamental socio-economic structures that uphold
the continued skewed distribution of wealth and income.
Notes
1. The nunw introduced ‘associate membership’ after its 1998 congress in an

attempt to forge a closer link between the federation and former trade unionists
now employed by the government or in the private sector. As a result, govern-
ment ministers and managers of parastatals are serving on the nunw’s Central
Executive Committee.
2. In December 2008, the exchange rate between the n$ and the us$ was about 10 : 1 .
References
Bauer GM (1993) Defining a role: Trade unions in Namibia. Southern Africa Report
8(5): 8–11
Bauer GM (1997) Labour relations in occupied Namibia. In G Klerck, A Murray &
M Sycholt (eds) Continuity and change: Labour relations in independent Namibia.
Windhoek: Gamsberg Macmillan
Bergene AC (2005) Workers of the world, unite? A study of global solidarity in the
textile and garment industries. Master’s thesis, Department of Sociology and
Human Geography, University of Oslo
Endresen S & Jauch H (2000) Export processing zones in Namibia: Taking a closer look.
Windhoek: Larri
Jauch H (1996) Tension grows: Labour relations in Namibia. South African Labour
Bulletin 20(4): 90–93

Jauch H (1999) Understanding the past and present – mapping the future: The National
Union of Namibian Workers (nunw) facing the 21st century. Windhoek: Larri
Jauch H (2004) Trade unions in Namibia: Defining a new role? Windhoek: Fes & Larri
Jauch H (2007) Between politics and the shopfloor: Which way for Namibia’s labour
movement? In H Melber (ed.) Transitions in Namibia. Which changes for whom?
Uppsala: Nordic Africa Institute
Jauch H (2008) Fdi as the panacea for economic under-development? The case
of Namibia’s export processing zones. In JS Pillarisetti & JSY Teo (eds) Small
economies and global economics. New York: Nova Science Publishers
Jauch H & Mwilima N (2006) Labour hire in Namibia: Current practices and effects.
Windhoek: Larri
Jauch H & Shindondola H (2003) Ramatex: On the other side of the fence. Windhoek:
Larri
Karamata C (2006) Farm workers in Namibia: Living and working conditions. Windhoek:
Larri
Karuuombe B (2002) The small and micro enterprise (sme) sector in Namibia: Conditions
of employment and income. Windhoek: Jcc & Larri
Katjavivi PH (1988) A history of resistance in Namibia. Paris: Unesco
Klerck G Murray A & Sycholt M (1997) Continuity and change: Labour relations in an
independent Namibia. Windhoek: Gamsberg Macmillan
Klerck G & Sycholt M (1997) The state and labour relations: Walking the tightrope
between corporatism and neo-liberalism. In G Klerck, A Murray & M Sycholt
(eds) Continuity and change: Labour relations in independent Namibia. Windhoek:
Gamsberg Macmillan
Larri (Labour Resource and Research Institute) (2003) Namibia: Labour market and
socio-economic indicators. Windhoek: Larri
Larri (2007) The Namibian wage bargaining & director’s remuneration report 2006.
Windhoek: Larri
Mbuende K (1986) Namibia, the broken shield: Anatomy of imperialism and revolution.
Malmö: Liber ab
Ministry of Labour (2001) The Namibia labour force survey 1997: Final report of analysis.
Windhoek: Ministry of Labour and National Planning Commission
Ministry of Labour (2002) The Namibia labour force survey 2000: Final report of
analysis. Windhoek: Ministry of Labour and National Planning Commission
Ministry of Labour and Social Welfare (2006) Namibia labour force survey 2004: Report
of analysis. Windhoek: Ministry of Labour and Social Welfare

Moleah AT (1983) Namibia: The struggle for liberation. Wilmington: Moleah Publishers
Mwilima N (2006) Namibia’s informal economy: Possibilities for trade union intervention.
Windhoek: Larri
Nunw (National Union of Namibian Workers) & swapo Party (1997) Accord to affiliate
the National Union of Namibian Workers to the swapo Party. Windhoek: Nunw &
swapo
Peltola P (1995) The lost May Day: Namibian workers struggle for independence. Helsinki:
The Finnish Anthropological Society in association with the Nordic Africa
Institute
Sidibe OO & Venturi B (1998) Trade unions and the process of democratisation. In
G Kester & OO Sidibe (eds) Trade unions and sustainable democracy in Africa.
Aldershot, uk: Ashgate
Simon R (1991) Gramsci’s political thought. London: Lawrence & Wishart
Swapo (1981) To be born a nation. The liberation struggle for Namibia. London: Zed Press
Wahl A (2004) European labour: The ideological legacy of the social pact. Monthly
Review 55(8): 37–49

9
Trade unions and the politics of national liberation

in Africa: An appraisal
Sakhela Buhlungu
Background
the involvement of african trade unions in politics, specifically their

relationship with political parties, has animated scholarly debates for nearly
50 years, that is, since the early years of African independence in the early
1960s. Some of the early contributions examined the involvement of unions
in independence struggles, their relationship to the nationalist movements
and their relationship to the post-colonial state (for example, Akwetey 1994;
Beckman & Sachikonye 2001; Berg & Butler 1964; Bienefeld 1975; Cohen
1974; Cooper 1996; Davies 1966; Freund 1988; Sandbrook 1975). These and
other studies are of enormous value as they constitute the foundation of
knowledge in African labour studies.
Contrary to Berg and Butler’s (1964) contention that unions in
Africa failed to become politically involved in the colonial era, and that after
independence their role in politics remained negligible, Davies (1966) made
an observation which remains valid to this day. He argued that ‘at every turn
African unions find themselves deeply involved in politics – a fact as true
today as it was under the imperial administrations’ (Davies 1966: 11–12).
Subsequent scholarly contributions took this as a given and focused largely
on the fate of unions in the post-colonial era. In his analysis of union–party
relations in Tanzania, Bienefeld (1975) noted that during the independence
struggle the Tanganyika Federation of Labour and the Tanganyika African
191

National Union had very close links. However, the achievement of ‘the
unifying objective’, namely independence, resulted in a breakdown of this
‘harmony’ (Bienefeld 1975: 242).
Some of the contributions have also highlighted the role that union
leadership has played in the evolution of union–party relations in the post-
colonial period. In particular, the focus has been on how close relations
between unions and parties provide an avenue for upward mobility into
politics. Sandbrook (1975: 182) has noted that union officials in post-independ-
ence Kenya ‘took advantage of their positions to further their own ambitions
in the political sphere, where the greatest personal rewards can be obtained’.
Freund (1988: 106–107) has argued that the state in post-colonial
Africa has a strong concern to ensure ‘the maintenance of labour discipline’,

something that arises out of the fact that:
… virtually all African governments have been uncomfortable with
strong, radical, independent trade unions. Such organisations violate
their own determination to dominate civil society and threaten to
function as independent power bases for ambitious politicians and
potentially for the emergence of class-based politics.
An important point made in the literature is that the forms that these
relationships take across the continent are not homogeneous nor are the
relationships fixed. Cohen (1974) has suggested a range of ‘ideal types’ or
models of union–party relationships, namely an integration model, a part-
nership model, independent (allied to opposition group), and independent
(usually non-aligned). These models form a continuum, with the one
extreme (integration) representing a high degree of subordination and the
other (independent – non-aligned) representing a high degree of autonomy or
independence.
While the literature on union–party relations in Africa is useful
for illuminating aspects of the evolving post-colonial political landscape,
it continues to suffer one major shortcoming – it does not engage suffi-
ciently with the phenomenon and discourse of national liberation. The

one contribution that comes closest to addressing this weakness is that
of Frederick Cooper (1996), whose work emphasises the fact that in a
developing-society context these relations are shaped by colonial rule and
the politics of national liberation. He then explains the change in relations
in the post-colonial period by alluding to new tensions that emerge between
the party and the unions following the change in the role of the liberation
movement into a ruling political party.
Looking at such tensions lays the ground work for understanding how
Africa ended up with the kind of independence it for the most part
got: politically assertive and socially conservative regimes focused on
their control of the coercive, patronage and symbolic apparatus of the
state, distrustful of and hostile to the continued influence of social

movements that had once helped challenge the colonial state, fearful
of groups that might make claims. (Cooper 1996: 5)
The tensions discussed by Cooper arise between what he terms ‘political

projects’ (parties) and ‘social projects’ (civil society movements). In post-
colonial contexts, they are indicative of a tension between nationalism and its
populist rhetoric, on the one hand, and a more radical, class-based discourse
on the other. In virtually all post-colonial societies, nationalist regimes
sought to integrate or subordinate trade unions to the ruling party.
The discussion in this chapter builds on Cooper’s contribution
and I propose to elaborate further on the ways in which the discourse and
practice of national liberation shaped (and continue to shape) the different
forms of unionism that have emerged on the continent. This will include
an examination of how this phenomenon shapes the goals that unions set
themselves, the strategies they employ to achieve these goals and the modes
of organisation and mobilisation they adopt. With this approach we can begin
to understand the reasons why unions choose to relate to national liberation
movements and other political parties. I begin by examining the politics of
national liberation in Africa and how it provided the backdrop against which
union mobilisation was, and still is, conducted. I then provide an appraisal
Trade unions and the politics of national liberation in Africa 193

of how the politics of national liberation shaped unionism and union–party
relations in the cases presented in this volume. The final section of this
chapter ponders the future of unionism in a context where national liberation
politics continues to loom large as ideology and as practice. At this point I
should state that the aims of this chapter are much more modest in that I do
not intend providing a summary or conclusion of the discussion in the rest
of this book. Instead, I provide a brief sketch that should serve as a basis for
a framework for understanding the political engagement by trade unions in
post-colonial Africa.
The politics of national liberation revisited

In no other region of the world does the ghost of colonial rule continue to
loom as large as it does in Africa. Today the colonial legacy continues to
manifest itself in politics, institutions, culture, religion and virtually every
aspect of social and political life on the continent. But the peoples of the
continent have continued to exhibit ambivalence towards colonialism. On the
one hand colonial rule was seen by many Africans as a harbinger of enlight-
enment and progress and this led them to emulate the colonisers in order
to achieve modernity as represented by the colonial powers. This entailed
various forms of social, economic and cultural integration of the colonised.
Of course, this integration was not always voluntary, but by the end of the
first quarter of the twentieth century many Africans aspired to various forms
of western modernity and education was the key to the attainment of this
form of modernity.
On the other hand, colonial rule was resented and opposed by
Africans because it was a form of external intrusion and subjugation that
denied them their right to self-determination. Ironically, in the twentieth
century it was the growing class of Africans who had embraced western
modernity that took the lead in opposing colonial rule. In this context,
national liberation was a broad resistance movement characterised by two
related dimensions of struggle, namely the struggle against colonial rule

and the struggle for self-determination and independence. A crucial issue
for understanding the politics of national liberation is the continuity that
exists between these two dimensions of struggle. This explains why many
activists, leaders and movements continue to invoke the ideology of national
liberation long after colonialism has ended. The implication of this is that
the end of colonialism does not necessarily lead to an end to the struggle for
self-determination and independence. This point has been made by many
generations of African nationalist leaders. Addressing the Third Conference
of the African Peoples held in Cairo in March 1961, Amilcar Cabral, then
leader of the national liberation movement in Portuguese Guinea and Cape
Verde, made this point forcefully:
No power can shake us from our determination, nor prevent the rapid
and total elimination of Portuguese domination in our countries.
However, to free themselves from foreign domination is not the only
desire of our peoples. They have learned by experience under colonial
oppression that the exploitation of man by man is the biggest obstacle
in the way of development and progress of a people beyond national
liberation. They are determined to take an active part in the building
of a new Africa, truly independent and progressive, founded on work
and justice, in which the creative power of our people which has been
stifled for centuries will find its truest and most constructive expres-
sion. (Cabral 1974: 11)
But what does national liberation mean in the African context? In the first
instance, it is an ideology and a set of practices that constitute the struggle
against colonial subjugation and the denial of dignity to the colonised.
Various elements underpin the politics of national liberation.
Solidarity among the colonised

The emergence of bonds of solidarity among the colonised is the first step
on the road to the development of a national consciousness. A vital aspect
of launching the struggle for national liberation was to draw boundaries

between the colonised and the coloniser, between ‘them’ and ‘us’. This
entailed highlighting the evil deeds of the coloniser and the virtues associ-
ated with the struggle for liberation. As one former activist explained, this
involved identifying concrete examples that people could relate to, such as
the cruel and authoritarian role of the district commissioner (Makasa 1985).
A national movement as rallying point of the colonised

In every country that waged a national liberation struggle, the mobilisation
was led by one dominant or single movement that claimed to speak on behalf
of all the oppressed. In those cases where the main movement split into rival
groups, or where rivals were formed from scratch, there was fierce contesta-
tion over which of these were authentic enough to speak on behalf of the
colonised. The power of a national liberation struggle depended on the ability
of a movement to avoid infighting and splits and to speak with one voice.
A charismatic leader as the movement’s public face and voice

Every national liberation struggle and the movement that spearheaded it
had to have a clearly identifiable leader who had charisma and outstanding
leadership qualities. Such a leader had to command respect and support
from the movement and, where it was not possible to get this voluntarily, to
manipulate and even bully subordinates to obtain such respect and support.
All successful national liberation movements in Africa were led by very
charismatic and strong leaders.
Prioritising the national liberation struggle over others

The politics of national liberation is always framed in such a way that the
struggle against colonialism becomes the overriding imperative to which all
resistance efforts by the colonised should be channelled. This stems from
the belief that the benefits of national liberation accrue to all the oppressed
regardless of other forms of social division. This means that struggles of
interest groups should never take precedence over those of the national
movement; those who seek to do this are considered divisive or factionalist.

Independent organisations and movements representing special interest
groups should defer to the national liberation movement and, when these
groups enter coalitions, fronts or alliances with the national liberation
movement, such coalitions and alliances have to be led by the latter. Many
national liberation movements sought to incorporate special interests by
expanding their rhetoric so that issues such as class were included in their
official policies. This was particularly the case where factions within a
movement competed for hegemony and one positioned itself as a radical
alternative to the others. Other national movements resolved the tension
posed by special interest groups by setting up committees or sub-organisa-
tions – including for women, youth, peasants and labour – under the overall
political leadership of the movement.
The national movement as custodian of liberation

Once in power the former national liberation movement claims not only to
have brought freedom but also to be the only vehicle through which that
freedom can be preserved and advanced. This amounts to a permanent claim
to legitimacy and power. Then Ghanaian Prime Minister Kwame Nkrumah’s
speech on the occasion of the tenth anniversary of his Convention People’s
Party in 1959 encapsulated this claim.
Comrades, it is no idle boast when I say that without the Convention
People’s Party there would be no Ghana, and that without political
independence there would be no hope of economic salvation. The
Convention People’s Party is Ghana. Our Party not only provides the
government but is also the custodian which stands guard over the
welfare of the people. (Nkrumah 1973: 161)
The elements of national liberation politics sketched above provided the

backdrop against which union mobilisation was, and still is, conducted.
Thus, as will be shown, unions on the continent do not have to contend only
with employers and the state. They also have to engage with the brand of
politics as represented by national liberation movements and their leaders.

National liberation, unionism and union–party relations
In this section I provide an appraisal of how the politics of national libera-

tion shaped unionism and union–party relations in the cases presented in
this volume. The bulk of existing scholarship on labour studies in Africa
proceeds from the premise that trade unionism is shaped by employer
and state policies and practices. Although this is true, the discussion that
follows shows that unions have also been profoundly shaped by the politics
of national liberation, particularly the movements and leaders that champion
it. This engagement began under colonialism as unions and their leaders
became aware of the need to engage with the discourse and practice of
national liberation. It was also forced upon them by the fact that both the
employer and the colonial state were agents of colonialism or, in the case of
some employers, they were intimately linked to it in some form or another.
Thus trade unions were shaped by national liberation politics in several ways.
To begin with, in the colonial context the power of capital at the
workplace as well as in the broader economy was underwritten by colonial
authority in such an explicit way that all African workers could see the
connection. But the power of capital often got fused with that of the colonial
authorities, particularly in those instances where the political infrastructure
of the colonial system was weak and some of its governance and coercive
functions were ‘delegated’ to private institutions, such as private security
forces run by big corporations. Thus the ubiquitous hand of the colonial
system, including at the workplace, meant that the emergence of trade
unions was more than merely a response to conditions of economic exploita-
tion by employers. It was simultaneously a response to the conditions of
political oppression created by colonialism, particularly the denial of political
rights and the violation of dignity of workers and the general population of
the colonised. African trade unions were therefore economic and political
creatures from the early days of their existence, something many scholarly
analyses missed as they sought to pigeonhole African unions as either class-
based or nationalist organisations.

The case studies examined in this book all provide ample evidence of
the hybrid consciousness in trade unions that is implied by the above obser-
vation. One finds numerous examples of union flirtation with the politics of
national liberation, either through coalitions with liberation movements or
by mobilising around workplace issues that inevitably triggered a political
reaction from the colonial authorities.
An important point that does not get the scholarly attention it
deserves is that several of the cases discussed here show that there has always
been considerable cross-fertilisation between trade unions and the national
liberation movements, especially because of overlapping leaderships between
these organisations. Many union activists were simultaneously active in
national liberation politics, while hundreds of others who started their

careers as unionists graduated into high-profile national politicians. In view
of the fact that under colonialism the layer of educated activists was generally
thin, union and political activists belonged to the same circles and were
always in dialogue with one another about matters of strategy and tactics. Of
course cross-fertilisation does not mean that relations between unions and
nationalist movements were always harmonious, nor does it mean there was
always agreement about strategies. Indeed, a recurring issue was the attempt
by the national movements to subordinate unions or treat them as junior
partners, something that often soured relationships.
A related point is the way in which national movements promoted
the formation of trade unions and vice versa, and we see this phenomenon
during colonialism and after the attainment of independence. Even more
intriguing is the intervention of the post-colonial state run by former libera-
tion movements in an attempt to shape or consolidate union structures.
Of course, this was not always motivated by benevolence on the part of the
post-colonial state, as the Zimbabwean, Senegalese, Namibian and Nigerian
cases show. In these cases, the formation of national union federations at the
instigation of the party or the state and the dissolution of others were almost
always motivated by a quest for political control of the unions.

The formation of political parties at the behest of trade unions is
more often than not a response by unions to a national liberation movement
that has lost its way. As the Zimbabwean case shows, the challenge for such
union-sponsored parties is to discredit the old national liberation movement
and inherit its mantle as a party of liberation. Another difficulty is that
unions often lose control of the party they help establish, particularly once
those parties are elevated into power. A rather unusual strategy is the one
adopted by the Congress of South African Trade Unions (cosatu), where the
federation and its allies recently mounted a successful campaign to recapture
the ruling African National Congress (anc) from forces considered right
wing and hostile to the labour movement.
National liberation politics has shaped African unions in another

fundamental way. Like their political counterparts, the liberation movements,
unions understand liberation and democracy as a means to an end rather than
as ends in themselves. They therefore expect that liberation and democracy
will lead to social reconstruction and economic development and thus an
improvement in the material conditions of their members. This expecta-
tion informs the political strategies of unions regardless of how radical or
conservative they are. Different movements have pursued different strategies
to achieve these ends, including the formation of alliances with liberation
movements during the liberation struggle and, after independence, with
ruling parties or opposition parties. Yet others have chosen the path of
non-alignment.
The involvement of African unions in the politics of national
liberation, as opposed to the social democratic politics that their northern
counterparts often engage in, has been a source of consternation in certain
quarters. Some have felt that such involvement holds the danger of unions
becoming captured by nationalists. Earlier in the twentieth century this
concern motivated metropolitan unions in the colonising countries to want
to provide ‘supervision’ to African unions so that they did not fall victim
to this danger. In this regard Senegal and South Africa provide fascinating
examples. A similar concern was a source of fierce debates in South Africa

during the 1970s and 1980s when two camps emerged, one pejoratively called
‘populist’ because they were seen to be too close to the liberation movements,
while the other was known as ‘workerist’ because of their failure to engage
with issues of national liberation. Yet, as the chapters in this volume attest,
over the decades African unions have engaged with national liberation
politics in strategic ways.
Former national liberation movements which are now ruling parties
also harbour their own concerns about union involvement in politics when
such involvement is with opposition parties. Once again, the cases in this
book tell a tale of how jittery former liberation movements become over this
issue. Addressing the media during a meeting of southern African labour
ministers in Harare in February 2005, South African labour minister,

Membathisi Mdladlana, spoke about how:
Ministers here now have a fear because people are talking about
possible political parties that are emerging everywhere, and the libera-
tion movements of the past are getting a bit nervous about the current
trend because, in their view, it does look like trade unions are being
pumped from elsewhere. (Sunday Times 6 February 2005)1
One way in which former national movements retaliate against hostile

unions is to remove the representational monopoly that many unions and
federations have enjoyed for years in many countries, and to orchestrate
the formation of splinter unions and federations or to disband federations
entirely. This was especially the case in Ghana, Nigeria, Namibia and
Zimbabwe, where governments sought to disband unions or sponsored the
formation of competitors to the existing national federations.
Unions and the post-colonial state
This discussion would not be complete without some reflections on relations

between unions and the post-colonial state in Africa. This issue is particu-
larly germane in this chapter because the post-colonial state is the vehicle

for the realisation of the politics of national liberation espoused by the
former liberation movements. Moreover, in many countries the distinction
between the ruling party and the state tends to be blurred and state institu-
tions often take their cue from the party. Our case studies paint a picture
of states and state institutions that, by virtue of their close association with
former national liberation movements, are steeped in the politics of national
liberation, particularly in so far as it promotes the notion of a single locus of
power in the party–state nexus. The tripartite forums that are in operation in
most of the country cases conceal the authoritarian and top-down approach
by state institutions in their dealings with trade unions.
The centrality of national liberation politics to relations between
unions and state institutions is also illustrated by the fact that any change in
relations between unions and the ruling party inevitably results in a change
in union–state relations. A fallout between the party and the unions almost
always results in a breakdown of relations between unions and state institu-
tions and a withdrawal of whatever privileges and patronage unions enjoyed
from these institutions. The preoccupation of the party and, by extension,
these institutions with the maintenance of peace and national stability and
with creating an environment conducive to reconstruction and development
makes them see labour as a potential threat at all times. No wonder that they
always seek to find ways to maintain a tight rein on union activities through
co-option or coercion. Thus, in many of the country cases studied here the
security agencies, including intelligence institutions, make it their business
to monitor union activities closely.2
Above I have argued that unions maintain a keen interest in issues
of national reconstruction and development, an interest that they share
with former national liberation movements. Here I need to add that they
look up to the state and its institutions as vehicles to achieve these objec-
tives. No wonder then that African unions have such an enduring interest
in influencing the state. This takes various forms, including the formation
of alliances with political parties; representation in policy-making forums;
making submissions to public forums, parliamentary committees and

commissions; and lobbying representatives in state institutions. The case
studies in this book bring out the diversity of approaches that unions on
the continent use to influence state institutions. The Ghana case shows the
extent to which unions keep on evaluating the relative efficacy of different
strategies, depending on the existing balance of power at any given time.
Of course, the use of collective mobilisation is another form of
bringing pressure to bear on public institutions and this is a strategy that
virtually all unions continue to employ. The South African, Nigerian and
Zimbabwean unions have been most prominent in this regard. However, it is
difficult to measure the efficacy of collective mobilisation in these and other
countries on the continent. Indeed, some governments are more amenable to
mass pressure and are therefore more tolerant of unions than others.
But the one area where unions have been revealed to be weak and
where they have been unable to influence the former national liberation
movements and state institutions is in shaping macroeconomic policy and
minimising the effects of neo-liberal global economic restructuring. All the
strategies discussed above seem so ineffective in the face of spirited efforts
by these governments to liberalise their economies. Indications are that
even those parties supported or formed by unions find it hard to resist the
pressure or temptation to embrace free market policies. The South African
case provides something of a novel approach by unions where the union
federation cosatu orchestrated the capture of the ruling anc by an alterna-
tive leadership perceived to be more sympathetic to the unions. However, it
remains to be seen what impact this will have in terms of macroeconomic
policies pursued by the ruling party.
Trade unionism and national liberation: What future?
An examination of the cases in this book, and many others on the continent,
reveals that national liberation politics continues to loom large both as
ideology and as practice. Even in those cases where this politics has lost its
meaning and has become ritualised, it remains extremely powerful as a

device to maintain the dominance of former liberation movements and to
keep trade unions in check. The movements and their leaders still find it
convenient to invoke the elements of national liberation politics discussed
earlier in this chapter, namely:
◆◆ solidarity among the formerly colonised;
◆◆ the national movement as sole custodian of liberation;
◆◆ a charismatic leader as the face and voice of the movement;
◆◆ pr ioritisation of national liberation over other forms and subor-
dination of special interest movements to the national liberation
movement; and
◆◆ all efforts to be oriented towards national reconstruction and
development.
Of course, I should emphasise that the elements operate differently in the

post-colonial context, particularly because of the integration of African
countries within the global economy. One of the implications of this integra-
tion is that the autonomy of national elites and of former national liberation
movements has become severely reduced, and crude forms of union repres-
sion are no longer possible in many of the countries discussed in this book.
But what is important is that these elements continue to constitute the
backdrop against which union organisation and mobilisation take place in
the first decade of the twenty-first century.
A question that arises at this juncture is: what are the prospects for
the emergence of class politics that transcends the legacy and limits that
national liberation politics has imposed on union mobilisation? To put the
question differently, is it possible for trade unions in Africa to transcend
the hybrid consciousness that contains strong elements of both class
and national liberation politics? Unfortunately, it is not easy to provide a
categorical answer to this question because experimentation with class-based
politics that eschews liberation politics is few and far between. Even in
those cases where unions have experimented by forming labour parties, the

most prominent being the Nigerian party, the results have been extremely
disappointing, as the chapter in this book shows. Some would argue that the
solution is for unions to inject class politics into existing national movements
and seek to change these from within. Again, it is too soon to make defini-
tive conclusions on this because it is too soon to derive any lessons from the
unfolding experiment in South Africa.
It is proper to end this assessment by making an observation that has
received little attention in debates about unions and politics. The enduring
legacy of national liberation politics is not only a function of pressures from
outside the union movement in the cases that we have examined. Union
members and leaders are also steeped in this politics, making it difficult for
unions to transcend it. The results of a longitudinal study conducted in South

Africa since 1994 show that the majority of cosatu members are staunch
supporters of the ruling anc, and believe that the alliance between the federa-
tion and the ruling party is the best way to shape the post-apartheid economic
and political dispensation (see Buhlungu 2006). One compelling conclusion
we can draw from this is that African labour studies should stop its preoccu-
pation with separating class and national liberation politics and instead strive
to explore the theoretical implications of the hybrid consciousness born of
capitalism and colonial rule. That is one of the elements of a future research
agenda that we can glean from the case studies presented in this book.
Notes
1. ‘Vavi slams “paranoid, suspicious” politicians’.
2. This preoccupation of security agencies with union activities applies to all the
cases, including those with the most liberal labour dispensations such as South
Africa.

References
Akwetey EO (1994) Trade unions and democratisation: A comparative study of Zambia
and Ghana. Stockholm: University of Stockholm
Beckman B & Sachikonye L (2001) Labour regimes and liberalization in Africa:
An introduction. In B Beckman & L Sachikonye (eds) Labour regimes and
liberalization: The restructuring of state-society relations in Africa. Harare: University
of Zimbabwe Publications
Berg E & Butler J (1964) Trade unions. In JS Coleman & CG Rosberg (eds) Political
parties and national integration in tropical Africa. Berkeley: University of California
Press
Bienefeld MA (1975) Socialist development and the workers in Tanzania. In R
Sandbrook & R Cohen (eds) The development of an African working class. London:
Longman
Buhlungu S (ed.) (2006) Trade unions and democracy: Cosatu workers’ political
attitudes in South Africa. Cape Town: Hsrc Press
Cabral A (1974) Revolution in Guinea: An African people’s struggle. London: Stage 1
Cohen R (1974) Trade unions in Nigeria, 1945–1971. London: Heinemann
Cooper F (1996) Decolonization and African society: The labour question in French and
British Africa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press
Davies I (1966) African trade unions. Harmondsworth: Penguin
Freund B (1988) The African worker. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press
Makasa K (1985) Zambia’s march to political freedom. Nairobi: Heinemann Educational
Books
Nkrumah K (1973) I speak of freedom. London: Panaf
Sandbrook R (1975) Proletarians and African capitalism: The Kenyan case, 1960–1972.
London: Cambridge University Press

Contributors
Emmanuel O Akwetey, Director, Institute for Democratic Governance, Accra, Ghana.
John-Jean Barya, Associate Professor of Law, Makerere University, and Senior
Research Fellow, Centre for Basic Research, Kampala, Uganda.
Björn Beckman, Professor, Department of Political Science, Stockholm University,
and Centre for Research and Documentation, Kano, Nigeria.
Sakhela Buhlungu, Professor, Department of Sociology, University of Johannesburg,
South Africa.
David Dorkenoo, Principal, Ghana Labour College, Accra, Ghana.
Herbert Jauch, Head of Research and Education, Labour Resource and Research
Institute, Windhoek, Namibia.
Salihu Lukman, Director, People & Passion Consult Ltd, Abuja, and formerly Deputy
General Secretary, Nigeria Labour Congress.

Lovemore Matombo, President, Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions.
Alfred Inis Ndiaye, Professor, Department of Sociology, Gaston Berger University,
Saint- Louis, Senegal.
Lloyd M Sachikonye, Professor, Department of Agrarian and Labour Studies, Institute
of Development Studies, University of Zimbabwe, Harare, Zimbabwe.
Roger Southall, Professor and Head, Department of Sociology, University of the
Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa.
Eddie Webster, Professor, Sociology of Work Unit, University of the Witwatersrand,
Johannesburg, South Africa.


Index
A Amathila, Ben 175

Abacha, Sani 59–63, 76 Amin, Idi 85, 88, 90–91
Abiola, MK 59 Angola 169, 174
accountability 9, 12, 30, 64, 74, 95, 125, 137, authoritarianism 5, 9, 19, 42, 44, 109–112,
143 116, 121, 125, 127, 202
activism see mobilisation, trade union and state repression 111, 116–118, 120–121,
African labour movements vi, 1, 2, 5, 10, 126–128, 170
23–25, 29, 159, 198 autonomy/independence, organisational 4,
state repression/suppression of vi, 14–15, 6, 11–20, 23–24, 27–29, 31–34,
19, 28, 45, 59–61, 77, 88, 91–92, 36–37, 43–45, 49–50, 64, 88,
95, 109, 117–119, 128, 136, 159–160, 90–92, 95–96, 103, 114, 122, 134,
204 145, 160, 171, 173–174, 186, 192 see

and state control/intervention 24–25, also political party/union links/
31–34, 36–37, 43–44, 85–87, affiliation: and non-alignment/
89–90, 93–94, 96–97, 103, 105, non-association/disengagement
112, 127, 199, 202 policies
see also governance structures/leadership, Aye, Baba 67, 69, 73–74
trade union; politics, trade union
African Labour Research Network vi B
African unions see African labour Babangida, Ibrahim 59, 65, 70
movements Bafyau, Paschal 73, 76
agriculture/agrarian-based economies 8, Bentum, Benjamin 39
28, 55 Bergene, AC 181
farm workers in 181–182, 184 Bienefeld, MA 191–192
All Africa Trade Union Federation (aatuf) black consciousness 139, 161 see also pan-
88, 90 Africanism
alliances/coalitions, trade union 9, 11, 15, 18, bourgeois ideology/hegemony 80, 155, 176,
20, 23–24, 29, 33, 36, 42, 50, 72, 179, 181
96, 114, 122–123, 199–200, 202 British Labour Party
broad-based/civil society 5, 9, 49–50, and Militant Tendency takeover bid 155
53–54, 59, 63–64, 71–73, 75–77, Bunting, Brian 137–138
105, 115, 128, 160, 176–177, 187 Busia period 17
tripartite 11, 13, 15, 49, 52, 93–94, 124, 131,
177, 180–181, 188, 202
C
Cabral, Amilcar 195
see also politics, trade union; South
capitalism/capitalist relations of production
Africa: Congress Alliance; social
2, 13, 75, 78–81, 146, 154–155, 176,
dialogue; Tripartite Negotiating
180, 182–183, 187, 198, 205 see also
Forum
globalisation/global capitalism
209

casualisation 7, 19, 89, 101–104, 143, 182–184 multiparty 40–41, 85–86, 96–97, 104,
centrism 16, 23 128n1
Chibebe, Wellington 117–118, 123 national 135–139, 145, 151–152, 155, 157, 159,
Chiminya, Talent 117 161, 200
Chinotimba, Joseph 118 social 1–2, 4, 9, 21, 27, 41, 43, 45–46, 59,
civil/political liberties 5 63, 70, 73–76, 81, 119, 128, 181
class 8, 15 transition to see democratisation
middle 113, 121, 123–124, 140, 147, 150 Democratic Republic of the Congo 114
multiclass alliances 123–124 democratisation/transition 23, 27, 41, 45–46,
political/ruling 70, 77, 111, 140 60–63, 109–112, 114–116, 118, 120,
struggle 136–137, 139 126, 128, 131, 133, 140, 171 see also
working 9, 19, 79, 81, 88, 111, 136, 167, transformation, political/social
177, 187 deracialisation/non-racialism 139, 144, 146–
see also politics, class-based 147, 162n4
client-patron relationships see clientelism and non-racial capitalism 176–177
clientelism 19, 80–81, 97, 103–105, 159 deregulation 11, 89, 99, 113
Cold War 4, 87, 89 of petroleum market 18–19, 59, 61–62,

and unipolarisation 85, 99, 101 70, 75–77, 79–80
collective bargaining see under wage see also price controls
colonialism 2, 25, 79, 178, 180, 193–195, development 2–3, 5, 14–15, 43, 53–54, 73,
198–199, 205 79–81, 113, 159, 172, 183
and anti-colonial movement 17, 42, 79, and advocacy NGOs 46–47, 49, 53
109, 152–153, 170–171, 194 human resource 52
see also post-colonial Africa and national reconstruction 9, 139, 141–
commodity production 8, 21, 79 142, 172, 200, 202, 204
common interest, notion of 2 policy 46, 125, 146, 155–156
communism 2, 4, 131, 135, 137–138 rights-based agenda for 5
conditions of production see employment: developmental state see development: policy
conditions of Diouf, Abdou 23, 27–28, 31
Cooper, Frederick 193
corporatism 42, 44, 60, 95, 153, 161, 180 E
cronyism 111, 126 East Africa 16
economic crisis 6, 11, 19, 26, 28–30, 34
D economic growth/development 47, 54, 74,
Davies, I 191 146, 178, 200, 202
decentralisation of labour 93 and fair trade campaigning 53–54
decolonisation 25, 81 see also post-colonial economic indigenisation 120
Africa economic policy 19, 64, 120, 131, 177
deindustrialisation 7, 28, 79 and black economic empowerment 144,
democracy 147, 149, 158, 177–178
internal union 8, 13, 21, 27, 29, 32, 41, and Economic Partnership Agreement
43, 45–46, 51, 55, 77, 91, 132–133, (Ghana) 55
144, 182

market-driven/pro-market 9, 11, 23, 81, Agricultural Workers’ Union 39
88–89, 101, 145, 156 Civil Servants Association 52
and market regulation 27, 42 Convention Peoples Party (cpp) 17, 39,
rationalisation 89, 101 42–43, 45, 197
reform/transformation of 24–25, 27, Ghana Employers’ Association 47
29–30, 35–36, 61, 78–79, 141, 146, Ghana Labour College 52
175, 203 Ghana National Association of Teachers
and structural adjustment programmes 52
(saps) 6, 27–29, 47, 53, 73, 86– Ghana Registered Nurses Association 52
89, 96, 101, 112–114, 145, 178 Ghana Trades Union Congress (tuc) vi,
see also liberalism; neo-liberalism; 10, 17, 39–56
pluralism; privatisation Industrial and Commercial Workers
economism 87, 96, 114, 133, 180 Union 55
economy, mixed 175–176 Kwame Nkrumah University of Science
Egypt vi and Technology 52
Ejiofor, SOZ 64, 67, 69, 71, 73 Labour and Policy Research Institute
employment 7, 30 48, 52
conditions of 3, 32, 55, 85, 102, 104, 112, National Democratic Congress 45
133, 153, 172, 178–181, 184 National Health Insurance Act 56
contract/migrant 30–31, 167–168, 179 National Liberation Council (nlc) 39
creation 47, 53–54, 146, 172, 178, 183 National Tripartite Committee 49
outsourcing 7, 143 National Youth Employment Programme
security/insecurity 28–30, 35, 184 53
see also unemployment Progress Party 43, 45
European Union (eu) 55, 62, 71–72, 81 Provisional National Defence Council 41
Social Democratic Front (sdf) 40
F Social Democratic Party 46
fascism 5 University of Cape Coast (ucc) 52
Fawhinmi, Gani 65 globalisation/global capitalism 11, 23, 55,
First World War 2 80–82, 87, 89, 140, 146, 159, 161,
fishing sector 182–184 168, 177, 203–204
formal sector see wage: employment/ governance structures/leadership, trade
economies union 1–2, 6–10, 13, 15, 19–21, 26,
Foster, Joe 152–153 34, 43–44, 55, 60–61, 65, 68–69,
freedom of association 91–92, 98, 100, 104 73, 76, 87, 89, 91, 112, 122, 124,
Freund, B 192 128, 139, 144, 159
Friedrich Ebert Stiftung vi, 4, 63, 68, 72, 81 and careerism/bureaucracy 12, 144, 154,
158, 182–183, 188, 192
G and co-optation/recruitment by political
Germany 181 parties 44, 51, 64, 71, 73, 77, 79,
German Social Democrat Party vi, 4, 63 92, 95, 141, 186, 199
Ghana 6, 12, 16, 19–20, 40, 42, 46, 50, 53,
160, 201, 203
index 211

factionalism/divisions in 27, 74, 88, World Bank 6, 49, 61, 86, 98, 101, 113,
90–92, 118, 127, 158, 161, 173–174, 177–178
183, 185–186 International Labour Organisation (ilo) 4,
women’s roles in 92, 144 20, 49, 94, 98–100, 103–104,
government labour departments 3, 169, 201 119, 169
Ministry of Labour, Zimbabwe 118 International Sociological Association vi
Gramsci, 176, 179, 187 Research Committee on the Labour
Movement (rc44) vi–vii
H see also economic policy: and structural
Hamutenya, Hidipo 185 adjustment programmes
Harvey, E 154 Inusa, Jamilu 67–69
HIV/Aids 155
hospitality sector 183 K
hyper-inf lation 125–126 Kaunda, Kenneth 90
Kibuuka, ER 90
I Klerck, G 177–178
Ilesanmi, Yemisi 69, 73 Kufuor, John Kofi Agyekum 17

incorporation 19, 21, 77, 79, 89–90, 92, 95
independence/post-independence 42, L
87–90, 109, 113, 116, 121, 168–169, labour legislation/law 3, 20, 25, 42, 46, 59,
171–172, 174–175, 177, 180–181, 186, 86, 89–90, 104
191–192, 195 Africa Growth and Opportunity Act 20
and land reform/claims 111, 113, 120, 123, Basic Conditions of Employment Act No.
175 75 of 1997 (South Africa) 153
India 2 Employment Act No. 6 of 2006 (Uganda)
industrial action see strikes Export Processing Zone (epz) Act No. 9
industrial relations 37, 49, 54, 88–89, 141, 153 of 1995 (Namibia) 172–173, 178
see also labour relations and industrial courts 3, 92–94
industrialisation 14, 54, 140, 145, 152, 159 Labour Act of 1992 (Namibia) 172–173,
informal economic sector 7–8, 30, 55, 121, 180–181
143, 182, 184 Labour Act No. 651 of 2003 (Ghana)
and trade-based economy 30 47–49, 55
informalisation 7, 143, 183 Labour Amendment Bill (Nigeria) 77
international development/donor agencies Labour Disputes Act No. 8 of 2006
3, 9, 27 (Uganda) 93
United Nations Development Labour Relations Act (lra) No. 66 of
Programme 98 1995 (South Africa) 141, 153
international finance institutions 3, 23, 27, review/reform 98–101, 104
62 Statutory Instrument No. 159 of 2007 125
International Monetary Fund (imf) 6, 49, Trade Union Act (Uganda) 90–91, 103
61, 86, 98, 101, 113, 145, 177–178 Trade Union Act of 1978 (Nigeria) 66
Poverty Reduction Strategy Programmes and Uganda Law Society 93
6 Workers’ Compensation Act (Uganda) 94

labour markets, destabilisation of 89, 149 Matibenga, Lucia 117, 123
labour regimes 4, 6, 88, 98, 153 Matombo, Lovemore vi–vii, 15, 117–118
labour relations 3–4, 98, 176–177, 180 see also Matongo, Isaac 116
industrial relations Mbeki, Thabo 12, 14, 131, 142, 147–150, 157–158
legitimacy Mbuende, Kaire 176
government 9, 62–63, 126 Mdladlana, Membathisi 201
union 5, 15, 46, 49–50 metropolitan unions 25, 200
liberalism/liberalisation, economic vi, 7, 23– militancy 18, 181, 183
24, 27, 31, 36, 46, 53, 55, 85–89, militarisation 120–121
92, 96, 101, 103–104, 113–114, 123, military government/dictatorship 17–18, 39,
143, 146, 203 41, 43–45, 59–63
liberation/independence struggles, role of mining sector 53, 175, 182–184
trade unions in 2, 5, 9–11, 19, 21, mobilisation/activism, trade union 19, 21, 77,
145, 156, 167–170, 174, 177, 186 80, 97, 126, 136, 139–140, 144,
and apartheid 9, 131–133, 135–139, 152–153, 156, 159–160, 171, 185, 193, 197,
169, 171, 175 199, 203–204
role of churches in 170 modernisation 11, 21, 25, 30, 37, 79, 81, 98,
liberation politics and union-state relations 144
191–195, 198–205 modernity 194
custodianship 197, 204 Motlanthe, Kgalema 158
leadership 196, 204 Mozambique 174
prioritisation 196–197, 204 Mugabe, Robert 10, 14–15, 111, 116–117, 120, 125
rallying points 196 Mujuru, Solomon 120
solidarity among the colonised 195–196, multiracialism 139
204 Museveni, Yoweri Kaguta 19–20, 85–86, 95,
Lukman, Salihu 18, 63, 65, 73 97, 104
Lyomoki, Sam 95, 97
N
M Naholo, Peter 185
macroeconomic policy 3, 48–49, 54, 127, 203 Namibia 10, 19–20, 167, 178, 181–182, 199, 201
Growth, Employment and Constitution of 176
Reconstruction strategy, South Labour Advisory Council 172
Africa (gear) 142–143, 145, 148, Labour Resource and Research Institute
153 (Namibia) vi
Madisha, Willie 158 Namibia Federation of Trade Unions 184
Magezi, Anne 93 Namibia National Teachers Union 185
Magubane, Ben 132 Namibia People’s Social Movement 184
Makwarimba, Alfred 118 National Development Plan 172
Mantashe, Gwede 151 National Union of Namibian Workers
manufacturing sector 7, 80, 167, 183 (nunw) 13–14, 168–174, 176–177,
marginalisation of trade unions 7, 10, 19, 21, 181–182, 184–186
141–142, 145, 147, 149, 153 Ovamboland People’s Organisation (opo)
market economies see under economic policy 168
index 213

Ramatex investment in 13, 178–179, 183 Nigeria Labour Party 18, 20, 60, 63–65,
South West African People’s 67–70, 72–74, 77, 79, 81
Organisation (swapo) 13, 168–176, Social Democratic Party 18, 64, 70
180, 185–186 Nigeria, registration of political parties in
Trade Union Congress of Namibia and funding 66–69, 71–72, 77
(tucna) 168, 185–186 and Independent National Electoral
Workers Action Committee 170 Commission (inec) 65–68
Napier, Dr Brian 98 Nkrumah, Kwame 17, 45, 197
nation building, role of unions in 9, 25–26, Nujoma, Sam 172, 185
28 Nwuanyawun, Dan 67–68
national budgets 27, 48–49, 61, 93 see also Nyameko, RS 138
public services sector: and Nyerere, Julius 90
expenditure cuts Nzimande, Blade 155
national consciousness see nationalism
National Labour and Economic Development O
Institute (naledi) vi Obasanjo, Olusegun 18, 61–62, 80
national policy formulation, union organisation, trade union 8–10, 16, 19, 21, 23,
involvement in 50, 54, 78, 93–94, 35, 42–45, 49, 55, 69, 76–77, 79,
157 96, 126, 139, 158, 182, 187, 193,
nationalisation 90, 175 204
nationalism 110–112, 120, 133, 169, 186, 191, and inter-union cooperation 16–17, 30,
195, 198, 200 35–36
neo-liberalism 3, 6, 11–14, 16–17, 19–20, 23, reform/reconstruction of 24, 34–36, 40,
25, 30–31, 34, 36, 53, 80–81, 85, 85–86, 176
87–89, 98, 101, 104, 140, 142, 146, shop-f loor tradition 134, 137–139, 145,
154, 176–178, 186, 203 see also 151, 159
economic policy; privatisation see also autonomy/independence,
Nigeria 8–9, 18–19, 59, 62, 64, 78–79, 126, organisational; governance
199, 201, 203, 205 structures/leadership, trade
Agura Pro-Democracy Summit 63, union
71–73, 75–76 Oshiomhole, Adams 18, 61, 67–69, 71, 73,
Civil Service Technical Union 64 75–76
minority groups in 62 Ozo-Eson, Peter 75
National Union of Banks, Insurance and
Financial Institutions Employees P
(nubifie) 67 pan-Africanism 88, 111, 139
National Union of Local Government and Africanist traditionalism 139, 149,
Employees (nulge) 65, 67 158
National Union of Textile, Garment and patriotism 62, 120
Tailoring Workers of Nigeria 65 peasantry/peasant economy 87, 167, 174
Niger Delta 62 pluralism, political 16–17, 23, 27–28, 32, 34,
Nigeria Labour Congress (nlc) vi, 17–18, 119
59–73, 75, 77, 79–80 political economy 8–9, 78–81, 113, 145

post-apartheid 134, 145, 158, 160, 205 populism 14, 110–111, 137, 139, 142, 152–153,
political party/union links/affiliation 1–4, 160, 201 see also South Africa:
6, 11–14, 16, 19–21, 23–24, 28, 31, Freedom Charter
34, 37, 41, 43, 46, 64–66, 68–71, post-colonial Africa 2, 4, 9, 140, 145, 159,
74–77, 80–81, 86, 94–96, 114, 192–194, 199, 201, 204
122, 124, 131, 134–135, 152, 168, poverty/the poor 32, 102, 121, 142, 147, 160,
171, 184 182 see also socio-economic
integration/subordination model 10, issues: equity/inequity
71, 134, 136, 140–142, 145, 160, poverty reduction 32, 47, 53–54
192–193, 199, 204 and poverty datum line 125, 127
and non-alignment/non-association/ Poverty Eradication Action Plan
disengagement policies 17, 26, (Uganda) 102
29, 32–33, 39–40, 42, 44–45, price controls, dismantling of 3, 89, 101 see
47–48, 50–51, 53–56, 90, 173–174, also deregulation: of petroleum
186, 192, 200 market
partnership model 36, 125, 140, 159, 176– private sector 89, 101–102, 147, 150, 154, 180,
177, 180–181, 183, 187, 192 186

see also autonomy/independence, privatisation 3, 6–7, 11, 23, 27, 30–31,
organisational; liberation politics 35–36, 53–54 86–89, 92, 94, 96,
and union-state relations 101–104, 127, 153, 178 see also neo-
political rights/constitutionalism 79 liberalism
and rights of citizens/human rights 111, public policy dialogue 44, 46–47, 51, 54, 171
119, 126–127 see also social dialogue
political unionism 132, 135–136 see also public services sector 6, 14, 27, 31, 34, 78, 94,
politics, trade union 113, 178, 184, 186
Politics of Development Group vi education 3, 23, 27, 31–32, 127, 178
politics, class-based 192, 198, 204–205 electricity 30–31, 54, 80
working class 21, 73, 137, 152, 154–157, 159, energy 32
161, 168–169, 174, 176, 186–187 and expenditure cuts 89, 101, 146
politics, trade union 4, 8, 205 groundnut 30–31
and de-politicisation 181 health 3, 23, 27, 31–32, 56
and ideology 3, 21, 23, 26, 70, 73, 79–81, justice 31
87, 96, 144, 176, 180, 186–187 postal 94
Stalinism in 132 state-owned banks 54, 94
workerism/Marxist Worker Tendency telecommunications 7, 30–31, 35, 80, 94
(mwt) in 132–133, 138–139, 151, 201 transport 94
see also African labour movements: water 30, 54, 80
and state control/ intervention; welfare 11, 64, 79
alliances, trade union; national
policy formulation, union R
involvement in racialism/racial oppression 139, 152, 162n4,
pollution, industrial 178 169, 171
Ramaphosa, Cyril 151
index 215

Rawlings, Jerry John 17 National Charter on Social Dialogue
representivity see under trade union 35, 37
membership see also public policy dialogue
repression/suppression of trade unions see social movement unionism 7, 115, 160–161,
under African labour movements 171,176
retail sector 183–184 National Constitution Assembly,
retrenchment/redundancies see Zimbabwe (nca) 115–116
unemployment/job losses socialism 26, 73, 79, 88, 90, 137–138, 153–154,
160, 169, 174–176, 180
S socio-economic issues 48, 134, 181
Salam, AA 64, 67–68 equity/inequity/imbalances 111, 113, 128,
security sector 182, 184 147, 183, 187–188
self-employment 8, 101 and pro-poor economic policies 49, 56,
Senegal 2, 8–9, 16–19, 23–25, 28, 30, 34, 145, 147, 155–156, 158
36–37, 199–200 Sociology of Work Unit (swop) vi–vii
Afrique Occidentale Francaise (aof) 25 South Africa 8, 14, 19, 126, 200, 203
cnts/Forces du Changement (fc) 33 African National Congress (anc) 4, 10,

Confédération des Syndicats Autonomes 121 4, 20, 131–132, 134–135, 137–141,
(csa) 31 143, 145, 147, 149–154, 157–160,
Confédération Nationale des Travailleurs 200, 203, 205
du Sénégal (cnts) 16–17, 24, arms deal,1998/corruption charges
26–28, 31–34 148–149, 158, 163n10
Parti Démocratique Sénégalais 16, 23, Congress Alliance 131–132, 135–137,
32–33, 37 139–140, 142–143–145, 147, 152–
Parti Socialiste (ps) 16, 23–24, 26, 28, 161&n2, 162n8, 205
31–34 Congress of South African Trade Unions
Société Nationale des (cosatu) vi, 4, 10, 12–14, 70,
Télécommunications du Sénégal 131–132, 134–135, 138–145, 147–151,
(sonatel) 35 153–161, 171, 200, 203, 205
Union Générale des Travailleurs de Convention for a Democratic South
l’Afrique Noire 25 Africa 140
Union Nationale des Syndicats Federation of South African Trade
Autonomes du Sénégal (unsas) 32 Unions (fosatu) 137, 152
Unique et Démocratique des Enseignants Freedom Charter/charterists 132, 136,
du Sénégal (sudes) 29 139, 151
Sexwale, Tokyo 151 Inkatha Freedom Party 149
Shaik, Shabir see South Africa: arms National Council of Trade Unions
deal,1998 (nactu) 139, 161
Sibanda, Gibson 115–116 National Economic Development and
small business sector 8, 54, 75, 78, 114, 121 Labour Council (nedlac) 141
social democracy see democracy National Party 140
social dialogue 5, 15, 34–35, 125, 128, 199 National Prosecuting Authority 148

Polokwane conference vi, 10, 14, 20, 131, and payment of dues 66, 91, 96
134–135,142, 145, 147, 150–151, and representivity 7, 28, 36, 42, 44, 46,
155–159 48, 51, 54, 59–60, 62, 89, 92,
Reconstruction and Development 96–97, 99, 105, 137, 181, 183–184,
Programme 141 201
South African Allied Workers’ Union 136 and workers’ demands/grievances 29, 77,
South African Communist Party (sacp) 100, 159, 170, 179
4, 14, 131, 134–135, 137, 142–143, trade union rivalries 4, 185–186
145, 147–151, 154–155, 157–158 trade unions, foreign/international 132
South African Confederation of Trade British Trade Union Congress (tuc) 87
Unions (sacotu) 161 eastern-bloc aligned 90
South African Congress of Trade Unions International Confederation of Free
(sactu) 132–133, 135–138, 140, 152, Trade Unions (icftu) 72, 87–88,
161n3–162 90, 162n3
South African Defence Force 139 International Textile, Garment and
South African Democratic Teachers Leather Workers’ Federation 100
Union 158 solidarity/support 4, 132

United Democratic Front (udf) 139 western 4, 20, 86, 90, 162n3
see also alliances/coalitions, trade union: World Federation of Trade Unions 90,
tripartite 169
Southern African Development Community see also International Labour
178 Organisation
Southern African Trade Union Co-ordinating transformation, economic see under economic
Council 174 policy
Soviet Union 2, 4, 169, 174 transformation, political/social 1, 11, 13, 15, 20,
strikes/industrial action 16, 29–30, 36, 52, 24, 61, 180, 182, 186–187
60–62, 113, 131, 177, 179, 181, 183 and constitutional reform 112, 115, 127,
and organised stay-aways/boycotts 128, 129n3, 140
136, 177 see also democratisation; social
sub-Saharan Africa 86 movement unionism
Sweden 181 Tripartite Negotiating Forum 124
and Kadoma Declaration of Intent 125
T Tsvangirai, Morgan 114–116, 122–123, 126
Tanzania 191 Turok, Ben 150–151
Tanganyika African National Union
191–192 U
Tanganyika Federation of Labour 191 Uganda 8, 19–20, 85, 87–88, 96–97, 99, 103
Tapa, Ephraim 123 African Labour College 88
technocratism 96, 144, 156 Apparel Tristar Ltd dispute 100
Third Conference of the African Peoples 195 Central Organisation of Free Trade
Tibaijuka, Anna 121 Unions (coftu) 95, 97, 103, 105
trade union membership 7, 34, 36, 43, 55, 72, Consolidated Fund 93
77, 89, 143, 183–184, 187–188 Constitution, 1995 103–104
index 217

Federation of Uganda Employers (fue) W
98, 100 Wade, Abdoulaye 9, 16–17, 23, 30–33
Federation of Uganda Trade Unions wage
(futu) 90–91 cuts/freezing 7, 29, 89, 101
Minimum Wages Advisory Board 94 employment/economies 3, 6–8, 14, 16,
Move to the Left Strategy 90–91 19–21, 79, 102, 167, 184
National Organisation of Trade Unions minimum 31, 49, 52, 60–62, 64, 75–76,
(notu) 88, 91, 94–95, 97, 99– 92, 94, 102, 181–182
100, 103, 105 negotiations/collective bargaining 29,
National Resistance Army (nra) 92 35–37, 49, 52, 91, 96, 100, 125, 133,
National Resistance Movement (nrm) 178, 180–183, 187–188
85–88, 92–94, 97, 103–105 Wandera, Martin 95, 97
Uganda Labour Congress (ulc) 88, 90 Webster, Eddie vi, viii, 42
Uganda People’s Congress (upc)–Obote West Africa 16, 25
II regime 85, 88–89, 91–92, 94, workers’ rights 86, 89, 96, 98–100, 102–105,
103 153, 181
Uganda Revenue Authority 95 and exploitative labour practices 171, 174,

Uganda Textile, Garments, Leather 178, 182–183, 195, 198
and Allied Workers’ Union World Bank see under international finance
(utglawu) 91, 99–100 institutions
Uganda Trade Unions’ Congress (utuc)
90–91 X
Umaru, Alhaji 65, 68 Xhosa 142
unemployment/job losses 6, 28, 30, 32, 55,
86–87, 89, 101–102, 142–143, Y
146–147, 160, 172, 179, 182, 184 Ya Otto, John 169
unfair dismissals/lockouts 100, 179
unilateralism 34, 56, 125 Z
union recognition 34, 45, 49–53, 89, 93, Zambia vi, 5, 112, 159, 174
99–100, 102–104, 133, 173, 179 Chiluba scenario 112, 128n1
United States of America (us) 20, 98 Zambia Congress of Trade Unions vi
African Growth and Opportunity Act Zimbabwe 5, 14–15, 19, 109, 111, 113, 119, 121,
(agoa) 99–100, 104 125, 159, 174, 199–201, 203
American Federation of Labour– Access to Information and Protection of
Congress of Industrial Privacy Act, 2003 118
Organisations (afl–cio) 100 Constitution Commission 115–116
Black Power Movement 139 Criminal Codification Act 119
Gulf War 101 elections 126
‘war on terror’ 101 Institute of Development Studies (ids),
University of Zimbabwe vi
V Labour and Economic Development
Vavi, Zwelinzima vi, 148 Research Institute of Zimbabwe
Vuk’ayibambe 138 vi–vii

Movement for Democratic Change
(mdc) 15, 116–117, 122–124, 126,
128–129n3
National Security Council 120
Operation Murambatsvina 121
Public Order and Security Act, 2002
(posa) 118–119
Zimbabwe African National Union-
Patriotic Front (zanu-pf) 116,
119–120, 123, 125–126
Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions
(zctu) vi–vii, 12, 14–15, 19–20,
113–118, 122–128
Zimbabwe Federation of Trade Unions
(zftu) 118, 127
see also independence: land reform/
claims; social movement

unionism; Tripartite Negotiating
Forum
Zulu 142, 149
Zuma, Jacob 12, 14, 131, 142, 145, 147–149, 155,
157–158, 163n10
index 219


Trade Unions and Party Politics: Labour Movements in Africa

Hochgeladen von

Dokumentinformationen

Originaltitel

Copyright

Verfügbare Formate

Dieses Dokument teilen

Dokument teilen oder einbetten

Freigabeoptionen

Stufen Sie dieses Dokument als nützlich ein?

Sind diese Inhalte unangemessen?

Copyright:

Verfügbare Formate

Trade Unions and Party Politics: Labour Movements in Africa

Hochgeladen von

Copyright:

Verfügbare Formate

In much of Africa, people look to trade unions for leadership, especially at

times of economic downturn. Although Africa's wage-workers are relatively

Sakhela Buhlungu and Lloyd Sachikonye

Trade Unions.indb 1 12/1/09 9:16:30 AM

Trade Unions.indb 2 12/1/09 9:16:30 AM

Free download from www.hsrcpress.ac.za

Trade Unions.indb 3 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

First published 2010

ISBN (soft cover) 978-0-7969-2306-6

© 2010 Human Sciences Research Council

Copyedited by Lee Smith

Distributed in Africa by Blue Weaver

Distributed in Europe and the United Kingdom by

Distributed in North America by Independent Publishers Group (IPG)

Trade Unions.indb 4 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

1 Introduction: Trade unions and party politics in Africa 1

3 Disengagement from party politics: Achievements and challenges

Trade Unions.indb 5 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

this book originates in a conference that was held at the Parktonian

conference focusing on Africa, the host continent of the World Congress.

Trade Unions.indb 6 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

Trade Unions.indb 7 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

Trade Unions.indb 8 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

AATUF All Africa Trade Union Federation

COFTU Central Organisation of Free Trade Unions (Uganda)

Trade Unions.indb 9 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

NLC National Liberation Council (Ghana)

Trade Unions.indb 10 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

USA United States of America

Trade Unions.indb 11 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

Trade Unions.indb 12 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

Introduction: Trade unions and party politics in Africa

Björn Beckman and Lloyd Sachikonye

Labour movements and political parties

Are trade unions capable of enhancing their political influence through

engaging with political parties while simultaneously protecting their

Trade Unions.indb 1 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

those in Europe. However, unions have occasionally been fragmented on

2 TRADE UNIONS AND PARTY POLITICS

Trade Unions.indb 2 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

and issues of wider national development be separated? Conditions of work

Introduction: Trade unions and party politics in Africa 3

Trade Unions.indb 3 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

level tend to reproduce themselves at the level of national trade union

4 TRADE UNIONS AND PARTY POLITICS

Trade Unions.indb 4 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

Historically, African trade unions have been active in broad popular

on a political platform. To this end, the movements have sought to build a

Introduction: Trade unions and party politics in Africa 5

Trade Unions.indb 5 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

Nyamukapa 2000). There has been continued pursuit of neo-liberal policies

The crisis of Africa’s wage-earning economies

Africa’s wage-earning classes are currently in disarray. After independence

6 TRADE UNIONS AND PARTY POLITICS

Trade Unions.indb 6 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

A major challenge to the credibility of organised labour as representing

Introduction: Trade unions and party politics in Africa 7

Trade Unions.indb 7 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

organisational terms, it gives wage labour an advantage over the small

8 TRADE UNIONS AND PARTY POLITICS

Trade Unions.indb 8 12/1/09 9:16:31 AM

Post-colonial societies are engaged in a complex task of nation building

Introduction: Trade unions and party politics in Africa 9

1 Introduction: Trade unions and party politics in Africa 1