Exploring the untapped potential of traditional leaders in South Africa's rural communities: Can they become catalysts for agribusiness growth?
Image: Itumeleng English/ Independent Newspapers
My friend and I were having one of those conversations that starts with frustration and ends with a question mark.
We were talking about our rural communities back home: the stagnation, the unemployment, the bright minds who leave for the cities because there is simply no reason to stay.
Somehow, the conversation kept circling back to the role of traditional leaders.
Let me be honest, we expressed deep frustration. We talked about how traditional leaders in our area, especially in Limpopo, Venda, where we are from, hold this incredible, almost untouchable power.
They command respect. They control land. They shape social behaviour. And yet, what are they actually doing?
The answer, from where we were sitting, seemed to be: not enough. They appear at events in their fine regalia.
They collect their stipends and benefits.
They exist as powerful entities that, frankly, look very comfortable doing very little for the actual economic survival of their villages.
But then the conversation shifted. We stopped complaining and started wondering: what could they do? Specifically, for small businesses, startups, and micro, small, and medium enterprises (MSMEs) trying to make a living in agriculture?
Here is the thing about traditional leaders that many of us do not fully grasp: their power is not just social. It is legal.
The Traditional Leadership and Governance Framework Act explicitly list the areas where traditional councils have a recognised role.
On that list are land administration, agriculture, economic development, tourism, and natural resource management. Let that sink in.
The law itself says chiefs have a role in economic development and agriculture. Not just a cultural role, but a genuine, actionable function.
The real power, however, is land. In rural areas, traditional leaders remain the gatekeepers; they allocate and mediate disputes over it.
Without secure land, no small-scale farmer will invest in better seeds, irrigation, or equipment.
Why would they?
It could be gone tomorrow. Chiefs hold the keys to that security. They decide who gets land to plant, who gets to expand, and who gets pushed aside.
Research from the University of Venda affirms this, academics looked at the role of traditional leadership institutions in rural agricultural projects across the Vhembe and Mopani districts.
What they found was telling: when traditional leaders do their jobs properly, they act as bridges.
They connect small-scale farmers to government programmes, to non-governmental organisations, and to markets they would never reach alone.
They help build what academics call "social capital", that invisible web of trust and partnership that turns a collection of struggling individuals into a functioning local economy.
What could they do tomorrow if they woke up and decided to act? First, they could ensure land tenure which would enable security for small farmers.
A chief who says, "This five hectares belongs to this family for agricultural use for the next twenty years," changes that family's ability to plan, to borrow, and to invest.
Second, enable market access through endorsement. Rural businesses struggle with one thing above all: nobody knows they exist. A chief who actively connects local cooperatives to buyers, who uses their network to open doors, who says "this business has my blessing" to a retailer or a government tender board, that matters enormously.
Third, provide protection from extraction. There is a fascinating new initiative, the Royal Customary Charter, developed by the Chartered Institute for Business Accountants in collaboration with traditional leaders.
The idea is simple: any business operating in a rural area should demonstrate that it is investing back into the community, not just extracting value and leaving. Traditional leaders could enforce this.
They could demand that spaza shops, retailers, and agribusinesses show proof of local reinvestment.
Lastly, ensure that the dispute resolution does not kill enterprises. Right now, if two small farmers have a conflict over water rights or boundary lines, it drags on, it festers.
Businesses die in that uncertainty.
Traditional courts could resolve these matters in days, not months, giving entrepreneurs the stability they need to grow.
There are roughly two million smallholder farmers in this country, most of whom work under traditional authority.
And most of them are one market connection, one secure land agreement, one act of leadership away from something much bigger. Look, I am not naive. I know that many traditional leaders will not do these things.
I know that some are exactly what my friends and I have observed: comfortable, disengaged, more interested in status than service. I know that in too many villages across rural communities, the traditional leader is a distant figure rather than a daily presence. But that is precisely the point. The conversation we need to have is not about abolishing traditional leadership or pretending it does not matter; the conversation is about accountability.
So here is the real question: what will it take for traditional leaders to stop being distant figures and start being strategic enablers, because the businesses are waiting, the land is waiting, and the people are ready, which means the only question left is whether leadership will finally show up.
Londani Mpharalala is a research and impact coordinator at 22 on Sloane.
Londani Mpharalala, Research and Impact Coordinator at 22 On Sloane.
Image: Supplied.
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