WATER AS SECURITY

Martin R Rupiya

Increasingly, global conflicts are caused by, or exacerbated by, competition over scarce natural resources such as land, fuel and water. The World Bank, for example, estimates that at least 40 per cent of the world’s population lives in housing that has neither potable water nor plumbing, and that 80 countries have difficulty in providing water. It predicts that, unless rationalising measures are introduced, future wars will be fought over water (Business Day, 23 August 1995).

Water is life and its absence could generate conflict both globally and regionally. Mechanisms need to be established to anticipate water needs in the region and oversee its equitable distribution. These are necessary to prevent conflict arising over water scarcity.

There are a number of causes of water scarcity in the region. Firstly, rainfall levels in southern Africa have declined over the last 95 years. There has been a steady 10 per cent decline in average rainfall every season, combined with two severe droughts every decade. Every fourth year, over the same period, inadequate rains of just below drought conditions have been registered.

Secondly, the advent of peace in the region has accelerated the consumption of this precious commodity. Large development projects, such as roads and airports, have used vast amounts of water. Huge forests have been replaced by tarred surfaces that do not absorb heat and have permanently affected the environment. There have been increased temperatures in the day and night, averaging 1,2 per cent and 0,6 per cent respectively. This results in increased evaporation levels followed by increased rainfall. For example, in

Zimbabwe the dams lost more than one-third of their holdings, from 5 billion to 3 billion litres before the onset of the hottest months of the dry season. Rapid surface water evaporation also affects groundwater levels, drying out wells, boreholes and natural river systems.

The final factor contributing to water scarcity is population growth and increasing urbanisation. Governments are faced with the daunting task of providing adequate water supplies to a rapidly expanding population. Southern Africa’s present population of 145 million is expected to double in the next 25 years. Increasingly, governments are having to rationalise the amount of water used.

Finding solutions to the water crisis in southern Africa is made difficult by the fact that the states’ abilities to obtain water from known sources is unequal. Some states have the technical skills and resources to extract water, while others, which may be worse off in terms of water availability, do not. Consequently, these sources become potential areas of conflict between states. The Zimbabwean Pungwe Water Project on the border with Mozambique, the Lesotho Highlands Water Project – aimed at supplying South African industrial, commercial and residential needs – and the Matabeleland Zambezi Water Project constitute potential flash points.

What is the alternative? Given the difficulties of reversing declining water levels coupled with increasing demand, the region needs to establish a water authority. Its mandate and responsibilities would need to include:

• overseeing the equitable use of water in the region;
• assessing and evaluating existing access to water, present abstraction methods and their impact;
• improving existing catchment areas which influence neighbours’ flows and the environment;
• drawing up damming and other development plans, based on regional priorities, and being empowered to source donor support on behalf of member states;
• being the sole authority arbiter to vet and co-ordinate future water rights applications; and
• being the sole and final arbiter of any regional disputes over water issues.

Acute shortages make water a strategic commodity that can become a source of conflict. Conflict resolution mechanisms need to be in place to avoid such crises. A credible, legally empowered and adequately resourced water authority is an important initiative that can be put into place immediately.

Contemporary changes in the character of armed conflict necessitate a rethinking of defence and security needs in global and local terms. The link between professional military establishments and the modern nation-state should be subject to critical scrutiny. There are strong grounds for questioning the existence of state military structures when the nature of war has changed from its conventional inter-state character. Almost all contemporary wars are civil wars. Virtually all of the conflict involves violence between internal groups (often ethnically defined) rather than states.

This leads to a crucial question which is at the centre of this book. How far should demilitarisation go? Armies and soldiers are not fixed and inevitable features of a nation-state, as the experiences of Costa Rica, Panama and Haiti show. President Figueres of Costa Rica has urged African nations to eliminate their armies if they really want development (The Star, 30 April 1996). The Costa Rican situation is very different from South Africa’s, but this is the ‘moment’ to radically rethink security and defence needs. Throughout the twentieth century, South African armed forces have never been used in a classic role to repel an invader. The SADF was used largely as an instrument of repression to maintain white rule. Since 1994, the SANDF has faced a crisis of legitimacy. Its response has been to try to position itself as a bastion of order. A frequent argument is that the SANDF needs to move away from offensive to pragmatic capabilities, such as participating in peacekeeping operations, border protection and disaster relief. It remains geared for offensive action north of the border. This is the logic behind the decision to purchase 12 Rooivalk attack helicopters. According to an American expert, ‘my conversations with military planners in South Africa confirmed that they are going ahead to plan on the basis of conventional threats’ (personal communication from Charles Knight, Project on Defense Alternatives, April 1996). Paradoxically, there is simultaneous acknowledgement by military leaders that there are no conventional threats.

LESOTHO HIGHLANDS WATER PROJECT

David Fig

The province of Gauteng, containing South Africa’s industrial and mining base, has the highest concentration of people per square kilometre and a great thirst for water. Without sources of its own, the water engineers of the 1980s looked to inter-basin transfers to slake this thirst. The solution was sought in importing water from the Tugela basin and the Lesotho Highlands, source of the Orange River, which flows from the Maluti mountains to the Atlantic Ocean at Alexander Bay, just south of Namibia.

When eyes were cast upon Lesotho’s water in the mid-1980s, the then prime minister, Chief Leabua Jonathan, once a creature of the apartheid government, turned hostile. Support for the African National Congress (AN C) had allowed South African exiles to shelter in the mountain kingdom and led to raids on the capital, Maseru, by apartheid forces. Jonathan was not keen to enter into a water deal with Pretoria. The World Bank was reluctant to put its imprimatur on any project without willing signatures on both sides. At the end of 1985, South Africa faced an impasse.

Early in 1986, apartheid’s military forces besieged Lesotho, preventing all movements into and out of the kingdom, which South Africa surrounds on all its frontiers. Lesotho nationals could not seek work in South Africa and the flow of migrants’ remittances was curbed. Within a week of the siege being initiated, the Jonathan government collapsed and Major-General Lekhanya of the Royal Lesotho Armed Forces assumed power. Within months, the treaty providing South Africa with water was signed and ratified. Funds were soon released by the World Bank and the Development Bank of Southern Africa (DBSA) to finance the project in the highlands.

The project, therefore, has its origins in apartheid-style planning and is associated with a lack of democratic decision-making in Lesotho. Ten years later, the project is still the object of controversy about its implementation and impacts.

Implementation of the first phases, 1A and 1B, have created a number of problems for the highland communities. Phase 1A, consisting largely of the construction of the Katse dam, has resulted in the dislocation of many villagers, the inundation of arable land, and the disruption of communications between villages near the dam. Problems of alcoholism and sexually transmitted diseases have become a social crisis in the highlands. Compensation for loss of fields and livelihoods has been inadequate, breeding land hunger as never before. Seismic activity caused by filling the dam has wrecked many houses in the village of Mapeleng. In September 1996, mounted police shot and killed a number of Lesotho workers on the project, during a strike protesting against racially based employment practices and differential pay for Lesotho and foreign nationals. Water scientists have also begun to express their misgivings about the project. If all phases are implemented, the supply to communities further downstream, as the river passes through the arid Kalahari and Namib deserts, will be reduced.

Despite the urging of the World Bank, the Lesotho-staffed implementing agency, the Lesotho Highlands Development Authority (LHDA), has not been effective in solving problems faced by the highlanders. The South African authorities have been reluctant to demand the highest standards of their Lesotho counterparts, despite provision in the treaty which guarantees the project will not jeopardise living standards.

Attention to the highlanders’ plight has been underlined by the work of several international aid agencies, foremost of which is Christian Aid, a division of the British Council of Churches, international non-governmental organisations (NGOs), such as the San Francisco-based International Rivers Network, and the Environmental Defense Fund in Washington. Locally, the Highlands Church Action Group and other NGOs have played a role in publicising the issues. In addition, the Group for Environmental Monitoring hosted a workshop in Johannesburg in August 1996 to bring together key players in an attempt to unblock the stalemate in relations between the community and the implementing agency. Some of these initiatives have raised publicity for the resolution of problems associated with the project.

The South African Minister of Water Affairs and Forestry, Professor Kader Asmal, has renewed his pledge to maintain living standards for highlanders. The LHDA has undertaken to work more closely with NGOs to monitor progress. However, the pace of improvement remains slow. Both the World Bank and the DBSA have become more circumspect about financing further stages of the project. Rand Water, the utility which receives the water, is paying more attention to resolving Gauteng’s water crisis through increased water conservation, recycling, plugging systemic leakages and the use of other demand-management techniques.

More people are realising that South Africa’s water security cannot be based on the dislocation of economically and politically vulnerable communities elsewhere in the region. These dislocations do not breed optimal conditions for water or any other forms of security.

While recognising that demilitarisation and conversion are contested concepts, the GEM project formulated in 1993 points to seven ways in which military resources could be redirected to environmental protection and sustainable development:

• Ideological conversion to a new understanding of security which emphasises its link to development and meeting human needs.
• Conversion of land previously used as military bases.
• Conversion of defence force personnel and equipment for development.
• Demobilisation, retraining and integration of ex-combatants into development institutions and programmes.
• Conversion of informal military structures, such as self-defence
  units, into development-related projects.
• Conversion of the defence industry to civilian production.
• The reallocation of defence expenditure.

Ideological conversion: redefining security

A broadened concept of ‘national security’ which emphasises the importance of ‘ecological security’ is emerging globally. It is increasingly recognised that defining national security largely in military terms fails to recognise many other crucial determinants. Real security can only be attained by reducing spending on armaments and systematically redirecting resources to meet critical human and environmental needs. Real defence is making people stronger by meeting their basic needs. There can be no better fortification than a healthy, well-housed and literate population.

Kaplan argues that West Africa is becoming ‘the symbol of world-wide demographic, environmental and societal stress in which criminal anarchy emerges as the real strategic danger’ (Kaplan, 1994:46). In his analysis, ‘environmental scarcity’ is ‘the national-security issue of the early 21st century’ (Kaplan, 1994:58). Similarly, the former UNCED Secretary-General Maurice Strong maintained that ‘our security is threatened more by environmental risk than by traditional military conflicts’ (Disarmament Times, March 1992).

A distinction has been drawn between the old ‘world order of the last half century organised around ideological conflict’ and a new world order ‘organised around environmental sustainability’. From this perspective, high defence expenditure has been compared to dismantling a house in order to erect a fence around it. The implication is that a shift of resources is necessary away from military preparations (with their toxic, polluting side-effects) in favour of environmental restoration and sustainable development.

In the old or traditional approach, security was about preserving state sovereignty, political independence and territorial integrity. Security was defined as a military issue. However, Nathan has pointed out that this approach has a number of shortcomings: it ignores the underlying reasons for conflict, consumes resources and neglects the various forms of non-violent conflict resolution. This statist and militarist approach to security creates what is termed the ‘security dilemma’. ‘The military steps taken by a state to enhance its security may induce insecurity in other states, particularly those with which it has adversarial relations. The inevitable reaction of those states is to heighten their own military preparedness. As the arms race escalates, war preparations become more likely to cause than prevent hostilities’ (Nathan, 1994:2).

The new concept of ecological security is linked to economic development and human rights. In 1991, it was proposed that a ‘security basket or calabash’ link security, stability, co-operation and development in the African continent. The Conference on Security, Stability, Development and Co-operation, held in Kampala, motivated for the notion of ‘common security’ on the grounds that the problems experienced by individual African countries are shared problems, and that instability in one state inevitably reduces the stability of neighbouring states. The implication is that security should not only be defined at the level of nation-states, but linked to larger issues of global security and smaller issues of personal security.

The consequences of civil war in Angola (Photo: Mail & Guardian)

In this sense, the notion of human security has always been implicit in the concept of development. Its dimensions include:

• personal and physical security, including a safe and healthy environment;
• economic security, including access to employment;
• social security, including protection from discrimination based on age or social status, combined with access to ‘safety nets’;
• political security, including access to justice and protection from abuse; and
• ethnic and cultural security – ‘a social climate in which minority populations feel secure in expressing their cultural identity’ (Buttedahl, 1995:14).

In the ‘old’ South Africa, in the period of Total Strategy, security was defined primarily with reference to white domination and military power. It is only now that we are beginning to learn of the killing and torture perpetrated by the apartheid state in the name of national security. Current threat analyses focus on the variety of security problems in the southern African region resulting from poverty, drought, disease and social dislocation. In the ‘new’ South Africa, security is defined primarily by meeting basic needs.

There is a need to move away from the narrow statist and militarist concept of security as defence from external aggression, to a more holistic approach which recognises that security is a multi-faceted concept with economic, social, political and ecological dimensions. The White Paper on Defence (1996) represents a significant shift in this direction.

The conversion of military bases to alternative land use

Demilitarisation involves the closure of some military bases and the dismantling of military installations. Base re-use is complicated by environmental damage and the economic dependence of local communities, but in Penny Mckenzie’s pioneering research there are strong ethical arguments for the redistribution of military land. The redistribution of SANDF land was one of the demands made at the National Land Committee Conference held in February 1994, attended by 700 delegates from 353 rural and landless communities. This demand was echoed in a GEM workshop held in 1996, and could resonate – to a limited extent – with SANDF rationalisation plans.

In 1991 the SANDF was the fourth-largest land-controlling authority in South Africa, managing some 60 military facilities which cover approximately 600 000 hectares of land. According to a military source, ‘These facilities are used for a variety of military purposes including training personnel, for ammunition depots, for air force bases, for shooting and bombing ranges, and for weapon testing sites’ (Godshalk, 1991:10).

However, there are allegations that the military has occupied pristine land for recreational purposes. There are reports that one of the most attractive camps in the Kruger National Park – Jakkalsbessie - operated for years as a secret SADF camp. There have been reports that the SANDF has built a multi-million rand, 16-bed luxury camp, on pristine coastal dune at the mouth of KwaZulu-Natal’s Kosi Bay, one of the most environmentally sensitive areas in the country. According to a press report ‘there is evidence that what was presented as a small operations base has become a holiday lodge for top-ranking officers’ (Sunday Independent, 6 October 1996).

This book relates how some military land was acquired through the dispossession and forced removal of communities under the apartheid regime. Documentation by the Surplus People Project (SPP) indicates that the SADF benefited from at least four forced removals. One of these occurred in 1973, when 1500 people were moved from Riemvasmaak near Upington, after the area was declared a military zone. An SPP spokesperson described the removals as ‘one of the most cruel of all the removals that were taking place around that time. This peace-loving and settled community was divided along racial lines and then – according to how officials had chosen to categorise them – sent to different destinations. Those whom the state chose to call Xhosa were sent to the Ciskei 1 000 km away and those classified Damara were sent out of South Africa to Damaraland in Namibia over 1 300 km away.’ Houses were burned in front of the people’s eyes.

In 1993, the Riemvasmaak community applied to the Commission on Land Allocation for permission to return, and did so on 21 May 1994. Riemvasmaak has been used as a model of restitution. However, the community’s legal representative, Henk Smith, has pointed out that ‘restitution entails more than the acquisition of lost land. It involves good planning, resettlement of people, provision of infrastructure and services, economic support programmes, sustainable development and community institution building’ (Winberg, 1994:24). Minister Derek Hanekom stresses that Riemvasmaak demonstrates ‘the value of mediation and negotiation in the restitution process’ (ibid.).

The SADF also benefited from the forced removal of 3 500 people from the shores of Lake St Lucia between 1968 and 1979, to establish a missile testing range, and about 3 500 people were removed from the Makatini flats in Zulu land in 1972 and 1973 when a buffer zone was established between Mozambique and Natal (Sunday Times, 4 October 1992).

Lohatla, in the Northern Cape, is a removal site that is generating intense controversy. Two black communities – the Maremane and Gatlhose – were forcibly removed in 1977 to allow the SADF to build the world’s second-largest battle school. A third group, the Khosis, resisted removal. These displaced groups have claimed back parts of the battle school, which covers 135 000 hectares of land. Despite these claims, the SANDF engages in massive war games on this site against a phantom enemy.

Both Lohatla and Riemvasmaak demonstrate the problems of military contamination. There have been several cases of injury to local people thought to have been caused by unexploded ordnance. The question of military contamination is dramatised by the use of land-mines as offensive weapons in southern Africa.

However, there are precedents for the conversion of military land: a nature reserve – Greefswald, near Messina – was handed over to the provincial administration. There are plans to develop the whole Limpopo Valley as an ecotourism destination and as part of a system of trans-frontier national parks.

The question of trans-frontier ‘peace parks’ is another dimension of the land conversion issue. This is anchored in the idea that co-operation across political borders around the management of common natural resources can simultaneously enhance regional peace and security, and protect biological diversity in the region. However, Koch (1995), for example, has questioned whether the peace park process can promote social development in the region.

Redeploying troops and equipment in development projects

The conversion of human resources is an important challenge for the military and one that is discussed in this book by Rocky Williams. A ‘swords into ploughshares’ report by a United Nations study group recommends developing mechanisms for transferring some of the world’s vast military resources to environmental protection and development programmes – for example, using military-related satellites and other information-gathering systems for global monitoring and sharing environmental data, and creating UN international environmental disaster relief teams. The ‘Green Helmets’, akin to the UN’s ‘Blue Berets’ peacekeeping teams, would rush to scenes of environmental disaster to provide emergency assistance, measure damage and help to enforce treaty provisions by verifying compliance.

Many governments are reducing the size of their military establishments and some of the human, material and technological resources in this sector are being deployed in environmental protection. In China, military personnel and aircraft have participated in tree planting, forest protection and emergency relief work. In Germany, surveillance flights by special aircraft help to discover and monitor oil spills. A German scout tank, used to detect chemical weapons and radioactive contamination under battlefield conditions, has been modified to detect air and soil pollution.

In Sweden, army helicopters, tracking vehicles and bridging equipment have been used in a variety of environmental emergencies such as wildfires, snowstorms and floods. Both army and navy units have been used to deal with oil spills. Ships with hazardous cargo are monitored by naval command posts. In Brazil, the armed forces provide logistic support to institutions charged with environmental protection. For example, navy units survey extensive areas of the Amazonian forest and territorial waters to prevent the smuggling of endangered species and illegal fishing. Ghana has used its armed forces to increase the mobility, accessibility and monitoring capabilities of the National Environmental Protection Council. On request, the air force carries out reconnaissance flights to monitor encroachments on forest reserves, land usage and desertification, poaching, the use of illegal fishing methods, dumping at sea, and coastal pollution and erosion.

It is debatable whether the military is the best institution to perform these tasks. The South African Constitution provides for an extensive role for the SANDF. Its responsibilities are ‘To defend the sovereignty and territorial integrity of South Africa; to fulfil South

Africa’s international obligations; to preserve life, health and property; to provide or maintain essential services; to uphold law and order, in co-operation with the police; and to support socio-economic upliftment.’ The White Paper on Defence suggests that socio-economic upliftment involves three dimensions for the SANDF: meeting basic needs, building the economy and developing human resources. It is anticipated that the Service Corps (SC) will play a major role in the last respect.

The SANDF has resources, equipment, skills and infrastructure which could be of considerable benefit to reconstruction and development. In terms of infrastructure, according to the Director of Programming and Budgeting in the SANDF Finance Division, South African Navy facilities could be made available for training in diving, signals, catering and computers, and there are South African Air Force facilities with existing infrastructure available at Hoedspruit and Pienaarsrivier (Van der Merwe, 1994). The SANDF could also be involved in adult education and literacy, in providing health facilities through the South African Medical Services (SAMS), and in loaning earth-moving and other construction equipment. There is a valuable repository of skills in the South African Army Engineer Formation and the SAMS.

However, there are profound dangers attached to SANDF involvement in the RDP. One argument is that, given the militarised nature of South Africa’s past, the new defence force should be limited to territorial defence and not deployed in socio-economic development. It has been suggested that such an expanded role would strengthen the military’s legitimacy and block the demilitarisation process.

The 70 000 personnel force level projected for the new army will be extremely costly to maintain. South Africa faces no conventional military threat and a large standing army could constitute a political danger. Huntington has warned that, in societies which have undergone democratic transition, ‘the absence of a foreign threat . . . may leave the military devoid of a legitimate military mission, and enhance their inclination to think about politics’ (Huntington, 1993:63). The force levels of the new army reflect a tension between social and defence needs. The current emphasis on social needs is influenced by the immense political danger which a compulsory and harsh reduction in numbers would pose, unless linked to a comprehensive demobilisation programme.

In terms of environmental issues, the SANDF could arguably be deployed in tasks similar to those undertaken in Ghana, Brazil and Sweden. The Environmental Services Division of the SANDF requires further investigation, as do the ways in which other countries utilise the military in environmental projects. India may be the most successful example of the use of armed forces for environmental protection. At the National Defence Academy, a crash course in conserva-

tion is part of the syllabus. ‘Every major Indian army formation has an environmental “cell” which is expected to maintain a close liaison with the Ministry of the Environment, Forests and Wildlife. Vast areas of degraded and semi-desert land have been reclaimed by tree-planting, irrigation schemes and protection of wildlife’ (World Disarm, 1992:7).

It is necessary to debate the deployment of SANDF personnel in non-military roles and probe the implications of non-offensive defence. This is a strategy, materialised in a national posture, that emphasises defensive rather than offensive military options.

Retraining ex-combatants in developmental programmes

Measures providing for the social integration of demobilised soldiers form a crucial part of the demilitarisation process and have been analysed by Penny Mckenzie and Tsepe Motumi in this book. Demobilised soldiers represent potentially both a security threat and a personnel resource. While demobilised soldiers may have demonstrated exceptional levels of courage and commitment, as a social category they usually have limited skills beyond military training, a disrupted education and minimal employment experience. They are therefore ill-equipped to compete in the civilian labour market.

Demobilisation is seen by the World Bank and other international agencies and development groups as perhaps the most critical step in a country’s post-conflict reconstruction. Various demobilisation schemes in Africa have proved problematic. For instance, the attempt in Zimbabwe to deploy some 9 000 ex-combatants in agricultural work, Soldiers Employed in Economic Development (SEED), collapsed very quickly (Oloa, 1991, cited by Cock, 1993). At the end of the war in Namibia, some 40 000 former PLAN and SWATF combatants were demobilised, and only 5 000 (mainly PLAN) fighters were selected to join the new Namibian Defence Force, which was increased to nearer 7 000 in 1991. The Development Brigade centres set up to provide training and short-term employment for ex-combatants encountered many problems (NSER, 1991, cited by Cock, 1993). In Mozambique, demobilised soldiers were a major source of instability, despite a demobilisation scheme involving altogether 45 000 personnel, which included transport to the district of their choice and six months’ salary as ‘a personal incentive to actively reintegrate into economic and social life’ (Republic of Mozambique, 1992:4). The African country with the most successful demobilisation scheme is probably Uganda, which has been working since 1992 to demobilise 42 000 soldiers and reduce its army by half, with funds raised by the World Bank.

A key aspect of reconstruction and development in South Africa is the development of human resources through various forms of training and education. A number of demobilisation strategies which could contribute to human resource development should be explored.

It is suggested that we need a ‘Soldiers’ Charter’ similar to that which benefited many white, male ex-soldiers after the Second World War. This could include access to training institutions similar to that provided by the GI Bill in the US (Cock, 1994).

Conversion of informal military structures

Informal military structures are a legacy of the militarisation of South African society. There are initiatives under way to convert these informal structures, such as self-defence units (SDUs), to civilian purposes. For example, in this book Adele Kirsten reports how the Peace Corps in Daveyton trains people in conflict resolution. Another project, involving the Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation, trains ex-SDU members in group building skills and organisational management, and is planning to offer job training in relation to small business development, a youth advice centre and the establishment of a recycling centre. The last is of special interest in terms of environmental protection and sustainable development. There are also reports from the East Rand that former SDU guerrillas operate as tour guides to sites of violent conflict in Tokoza and Katlehong.

Conversion of the defence industry

Under the apartheid regime, South Africa developed a massive arms industry. At its hub lay the Armaments Development and Production Corporation (Armscor) which ‘made South Africa the world’s tenth-largest armaments exporter, supplying perhaps 30 different countries across the globe’ (Baynham, 1990:405).

Armscor plans to expand arms exports by 300 per cent in the next five years, increasing arms sales to approximately R2,4 billion (Willett, 1994). These plans are generating debate, particularly in view of the evidence presented to the Cameron Commission, which exposed Armscor’s sales of weapons to a number of war-ravaged countries. For example, there is evidence that Armscor sold R100 million worth of weaponry to the Rwandan government in the five years prior to October 1993. There have also been allegations that South Africa supplied a further R50 million worth of weapons to the Hutu forces during June 1994, after the main acts of genocide against the Tutsi population had taken place.

Recent cancellations of sales to Rwanda do not detract from the reality that South Africa has become a major player in the global arms market with $272 million worth of exports in the 1995/6 financial year to 58 different countries (Jane’s Defence Weekly, 8 May 1996). Despite the formal criteria established by the new arms control body, the National Conventional Arms Control Committee (NCACC), and statements from President Mandela and the Department of Foreign Affairs on the country’s commitment to disarmament and ‘of making our world a more friendly place to live in’ (Department of Foreign Affairs, 1996), South Africa contributes to violent conflict, repression and the erosion of human rights and welfare throughout the world.

The conclusion is that, in both local and global terms, South Africa’s arms industry is a source of moral contamination. It has played a crucial role in maintaining the apartheid regime and its exports have supported wars and oppressive regimes around the world; it should therefore be dismantled. Arguments about the benefits of the arms industry in terms of jobs, foreign exchange and international prestige are devoid of ethical considerations.

Economist arguments maintain that the defence industry is a national asset, a crucial repository of advanced technology, skills and expertise and, on the basis of the jobs and foreign exchange it generates, should be protected. However, according to Peter Batchelor, research indicates that the economic benefits are greatly exaggerated, especially when taxpayer subsidies and offsets are subtracted. Furthermore, the arms industry absorbs disproportionate numbers of science and technology graduates and skilled technicians. As Willett and Batchelor write, ‘Many studies suggest that arms production is inefficient and expensive. It may encourage growth in the short run, but it distorts the structure of the national economy in the long run and has only limited export potential, particularly at present when international demand for weapons systems is declining and the arms market is saturated’ (Willett & Batchelor, 1994:4).

It has been claimed that, in 1993, South Africa’s arms exports generated 15 000 jobs and only accounted for between 0,7 and 1,3 per cent of total annual exports during the last decade. From these figures, Batchelor concludes that the defence sector’s contribution to overall economic performance is far less significant than claimed. If the value of government subsidies is removed from annual sales, the contribution of South Africa’s arms exports to the balance of trade and the balance of payments is marginal.

Economists such as Willett, Batchelor and Fine argue that the economic costs of the domestic defence industry outweigh the benefits, and that the future must involve a careful conversion to civilian production with the co-operation of government, industry and the trade unions. There are difficulties with conversion at plant level, but there is also evidence that the process is under way in South Africa. Until 1990, the mechanical engineering company Reumech was oriented towards military output, but has been successfully transformed into a manufacturer of commercial products, and is only about 50 per cent dependent on the defence market (The Star, 6 June 1996). However, these initiatives need to be part of a holistic approach to demilitarisation and understood as part of industrial restructuring.

While the social and moral impact of the arms industry is subject to increasing debate, its environmental impact has not been systemically investigated.

Generally, weapon production and testing involve considerable environmental degradation. Several reserves in South Africa have been used as missile testing sites. In 1991, 72 000 hectares of land at St Lucia, parts of which had been used as a weapons testing ground since 1968, were transferred to the Natal Parks Board. There are reports that weapons testing caused considerable environmental damage in a pristine area from Cape Vidal to Sodwana (Saturday Argus, 12 October 1996). An Armscor demonstration of a multiple rocket launcher resulted in a massive fire which raged across St Lucia for days (The Star, 7 June 1991). In 1996 about 20 powerful surface-to-surface missiles, at least six of which were live, were discovered in the area (Saturday Argus, 12 October 1996). It should be noted that St Lucia was one of the first four conservation areas to be proclaimed in Africa in 1987. It is a designated wetland of international significance under the RAMSAR Convention.

De Hoop Nature Reserve, near Arniston in the Western Cape, is still a military zone and used for testing ballistic missiles developed by Armscor. This is where South Africa, in conjunction with Israel, tested an intercontinental missile capable of carrying nuclear warheads.

Reallocation of defence expenditure

Increasing numbers of South Africans are concerned about high levels of defence expenditure – now R10,5 billion, which amounts to about 2 per cent of GDP. Although it has decreased in real terms by 50 per cent since 1989, South Africa still has the largest defence budget in Africa. A commitment to a ‘technologically advanced military force’ is extremely expensive. The Defence Review advocated the purchase of major items such as naval patrol vessels, submarines, jet fighters and 12 Rooivalk attack helicopters as support for ground troops. Kasrils has argued that these purchases will enable South Africa to acquire military hardware while creating jobs and training opportunities. But it has been clearly established by scholars such as Nicole Ball and Paul Dunne that defence spending has a negative effect on economic growth. Planned, orderly reductions in defence spending could mean alternative investment in sustainable development generally and environmental management programmes specifically. At the very least, every defence expense must be considered in relation to a host of competing demands for resources to meet basic needs.

Conclusion

The process of democratisation in South Africa is extremely fragile. Now that a pluralist political system and universal franchise have been secured, the consolidation of democracy depends on the trans-

formation of economic and social relations. This requires a shifting of power and resources away from the military to social and economic development.

There are seven areas in which this could be achieved in a planned, orderly and holistic way. The conversion and reallocation of military resources to alleviate poverty and environmental degradation should be priorities. As Eisenhower said, ‘Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, represents, in the final analysis, a theft from those that hunger and are not fed, are cold and are not clothed.’ In South Africa, the victims of ‘theft’ are the 40 per cent of the population who live in poverty. In the interests of both justice and social stability their needs must be met.

For this to happen, civil society needs to be empowered. Debates on defence policy issues are not particularly well informed and there is no strong, mass-based demilitarisation movement to challenge the power of the defence establishment. This is a serious problem. In developing countries, but especially in Africa, the military has accumulated power and resources, and subverted democracy partly because civil society has lacked the capacity to engage with it. Healthy civil-military relations require the empowerment of civil society to engage with defence issues; to challenge insider security expert assessment of security needs and budget justification. Further research and public debate on a multi-dimensional conversion programme are urgently needed. It is hoped that the publication of this book will advance that process.