Journal of Black Studies

Volume 38 Number 4
March 2008 579-599
© 2008 Sage Publications
Colonial Philosophies, 10.1177/0021934706288447
http://jbs.sagepub.com
Urban Space, and Racial hosted at
http://online.sagepub.com

Segregation in British and

French Colonial Africa
Ambe J. Njoh
University of South Florida, St. Petersburg

British colonial authorities adhered to a philosophy of racial segregation

while their French counterparts subscribed to one that segregates along
socioeconomic and cultural lines. This article interrogates the rationale for
these two colonial philosophies and addresses the following questions: How
were these philosophies given physical expression in colonial urban space?
Why did the two seemingly opposing philosophies produce identical racially
segregated urban space? It is argued that although the two colonial powers
had different racial philosophies, they shared common cultural, psychologi-
cal, political, social, and ideological objectives that were best accomplished
through racially segregated space.

Keywords: colonial Africa; colonialism; domination; racism; racial

segregation; social control; urban planning

B ritish and French colonial authorities employed significantly different

approaches to urban planning. Analysts have largely ignored this
important aspect of the colonial project. With a few exceptions (e.g., Freund,
2001; Goerg, 1998; Njoh, forthcoming), researchers have yet to conduct
meaningful comparative studies of the urban planning policies of different
colonial powers in Africa. Thus, several crucial questions relating to colonial
urbanism in Africa remain unanswered. The following four questions are
illustrative and make up the focus of this article. What specific spatial poli-
cies and schemes did the different colonial powers implement in Africa?
What did French cultural spatial segregation and British racial spatial segre-
gation policies entail? What were the historical and philosophical founda-
tions of these policies? Why was racially segregated space the norm in
British and French colonies despite the fact that the two colonial powers
adopted different spatial development policies?

579
580 Journal of Black Studies

The discussion proceeds as follows. In the next section, and as a means

of historically grounding the discussion, I take a snapshot of British and
French views of the race construct during the period immediately preced-
ing the onset of the colonial era in Africa in the late 19th century. Following
this, I survey planning schemes, especially those with racial spatial segre-
gation overtones, in French and British colonial Africa. A subsequent sec-
tion undertakes a comparative analysis of the schemes. The aim is to show
how and why, despite the fact that the two colonial powers employed dif-
ferent means (policies, programs, and projects), they achieved the same
ends (outcome), namely, racially segregated space. The discussion ends
with some concluding remarks.

The Race Construct in Britain and

France Prior to the Late 19th Century

The belief on the part of Europeans, especially Western Europeans, that

theirs was the superior race was reinforced and solidified by the scientific
and industrial revolutions as well as four centuries of unfettered European
imperial expansion in the 18th century. The scientific community, especially
anthropologists, provided further credence to this view in the early- to mid-
19th century. These scientists authoritatively asserted, albeit erroneously,
that humans could be classified into three main groups as follows: superior
Caucasoids, intermediate Mongoloids, and inferior Negroids (see Gobineau,
1853/1967).
The British and the Germans were foremost of the European groups who
equated these dubious findings with gospel truth. Accordingly, they adhered
stringently to the philosophy of race as the distinguishing characteristic
between them and “others” (Fredrickson, 2005). Within the framework of
this philosophy, the British and Germans believed that there was no question
whatsoever that the Caucasian (in particular, what they referred to as the
Aryan) race was superior to all other races. This belief later represented
a critical stone in the foundation of Hitler’s anti-Semitic ranting, which
culminated in the infamous Jewish Holocaust. Traces of this philosophy are
plentiful in British laws, especially in the Americas and South Africa, that
forbade interracial marriages, criminalized interracial sexual intercourse
(so-called miscegenation), and promoted racially segregated spatial structures.
On the part of the French, the subject of race did not become part of
mainstream discourse until the 18th century. Even then, the issue was not
 Njoh / Colonial Philosophies 581

necessarily about affirming racial superiority (Fredrickson, 2005). Rather,

it assumed the form of an inquisition into French ancestry. Resulting from
this inquisition was a general agreement that the French were “blue-blood”
descendants of the presumed racially superior Franks. The Franks were a
Germanic people who had conquered the Gauls, a supposedly “inferior” and
“impure” race, at the end of the Roman era (Fredrickson, 2005). Although
this point was consensual, some, who considered themselves champions of
the rights of the oppressed (The Third Estate), contended that the true
French were the Gauls who needed to be liberated from an alien aristocracy.
This racialized concept of class linked to liberation from tyranny formed, at
least in part, the basis of the French colonial enterprise. As Fredrickson
(2005) notes,

Such a racialized conception of social class and its association with libera-
tion from tyranny was put to use by French colonial expansionists of the
early-to-mid nineteenth century, beginning with Napoleon’s Egyptian expe-
dition of 1798-1801 and coming to fruition with the colonization of Algeria
in the 1830s and 40s. (p. 106)

Another important distinction between the French and the British of that
time is that unlike the British, who were persuaded by the theory that they
(the Germanics) descended from a single-strain of blood, the French were
increasingly viewing themselves as a mixed race of Gauls, Latin, Celtic,
and Germanic elements, who had blended into a greater whole. Fredrickson
(2005) opines that the French considered it possible and desirable to assim-
ilate indigenous populations by all means necessary, including intermarry-
ing with the indigenous people.
This said, it is important to note that Western racism and imperialism
were heightened during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. This period
coincided with the heyday of the European colonial project in Africa. As I
show later in this discussion, this negative development in race relations had
far-reaching implications for spatial development projects in colonial Africa.

Racial Segregation As an Objective

of Planning in Colonial Africa

Apart from its use as an instrument for regulating land use activities,
town planning was employed in sub-Saharan African countries to foster the
colonial social objective of racial spatial segregation. Such use of planning
582 Journal of Black Studies

was the norm not only in colonies such as Kenya, Tanganyika (present-day
Tanzania), Northern Rhodesia (present-day Zimbabwe), South Africa, and
Sierra Leone, which were controlled by Europeans of Germanic origin who
believed in racial superiority, but also in territories such as Madagascar,
Côte d’Ivoire, Guinea, Congo, and Angola that were under the colonial
tutelage of Europeans of Latin origin, who adhered to a philosophy of cul-
tural as opposed to racial superiority. Thus, the landscape of all so-called
modern African cities, irrespective of the ethnic origin of their erstwhile
European colonial masters, is replete with evidence of racial residential
segregation. Why this apparent contradiction between theory and evidence?
I submit that it is partially a function of the strong correlation between
lifestyle/culture and socioeconomic status that guaranteed the exclusion of
non-Whites from certain areas without recourse to blatantly racial discrim-
inatory planning legislation. I expand on this theory and advance additional
plausible explanations later in the article. For now, I survey a sample of
planning schemes with obvious racial spatial segregation connotations in
French and British colonial sub-Saharan Africa.

Town Planning and Racial Segregation

in French Colonial Africa

French colonial sub-Saharan Africa can be divided into three main non-
contiguous blocks: (a) French West Africa (FWA), including Senegal,
Guinea, Mali, Upper Volta (present-day Burkina Faso), Niger, Togo, Côte
d’Ivoire, and Dahomey (present-day Benin); (b) French Equatorial Africa
(FEA), including Gabon, Middle Congo (present-day People’s Republic of
Congo), Ubangi Shari (present-day Central African Republic), and Chad;
and (c) the nonfederated territories, including French Cameroun and
Madagascar. I present one case from each of these three blocks as follows:
Madagascar (for the nonfederated territories), People’s Republic of Congo
(for FEA), and Guinea (for FWA).

Madagascar. French presence in Madagascar dates back to the 1600s.

However, it was not until the late 1800s that they gained effective control
over the territory. Other European powers who vied for control over the
island were the Portuguese and the British. The French had effectively occu-
pied Toamasina (previously known as Tamatave) in 1883 and established a
protectorate over Madagascar 2 years later in 1885. The island was declared
a French colony with General Gallieni as its first governor-general in 1896.
 Njoh / Colonial Philosophies 583

Gallieni, a military man with extensive combat experience in Indochina

and Madagascar itself, had more than a passing interest in town planning.
In this respect, he initiated and/or completed many projects on the island
before concluding his tenure as the colony’s top administrator. Prominent
among these projects are the following. First, soon after assuming the post
of the colony’s founding governor-general, Gallieni appointed a commis-
sion made up of engineers, military advisors, and businessmen to develop
a system of streets for the colonial capital city. A noteworthy attribute of
this commission for the purpose of this discussion is the conspicuous
absence of an African in its membership ranks. The commission had sev-
eral deliberations, which culminated in a set of recommendations, includ-
ing the removal of all objects obstructing circulation throughout the city,
the prevention of pigs from roaming the streets, widening of all thorough-
fares, development of additional streets and demolishing of houses in the
way of the Residence de France, and widening the approach to same.
Within 1 year of the recommendations, two wider thoroughfares had been
developed, namely, Rue Guillan and Avenue de France. It did not take long
after that for evidence of European presence to manifest itself in the large
number of ferroconcrete buildings, which began to appear and flank the
wide streets. A few years later, these structures, the tree-lined avenues, and
the meticulously aligned streets conspired to dramatically transform the
heart of the fledgling colonial capital city.
Gallieni appointed Hubert Lyautey, whom he had known as a friend and
colleague from his days in Indochina, as the colony’s urban designer.
Lyautey’s first assignment was to design and develop a military camp in
Ankazobé. The plan Lyautey crafted had the hallmarks of classic French
urban design—a grid system made up of diagonal streets that converge on
a central point, a traffic circle or roundabout. Lyautey’s next assignment
had an unmistakable political ring to it—“pacifying the south of the island.”
Here, Lyautey was required to demonstrate his prowess as an urban
designer by creating a spatial structure capable of not only dominating but
also assuaging members of the indigenous population. Lyautey’s response
was to design what was a “true ville nouvelle” in Fianarantsoa, a town with
a population of 5,000 at the time (Wright, 1991). In 1918, another com-
mission was created to produce a plan for the new capital. The commission
was instructed to adhere to principles of modern hygiene and urbanism as
it contemplated the scheme. The commission included health officers, gov-
ernment bureaucrats, and businessmen. Again, conspicuously absent from
this commission, as in the one before, was a representative of the indigenous
population.
584 Journal of Black Studies

Georges Cassaigne, a graduate of the prestigious Ecole des Beaux Arts in

Paris, was assigned the role of principal designer on the project. Cassaigne
proposed the use of traffic circles, one-way streets, specified crosswalks, and
off-street parking as a means of resolving the city’s growing traffic quandary.
Cassaigne was a proponent of racial spatial segregation and recommended
this as part of his proposal for the city’s new design. However, colonial
authorities on the ground in Madagascar avoided including any overtly racist
clause in the plan because they were fully aware of the fact that such a clause
was likely to be unfavorably received by the metropolitan French public.
Instead, they used material-specification standards to regulate building activ-
ities in the most desirable areas of the city.
Thus, in theory, Madagascar had no official policies designed to promote
racial spatial segregation. In other words, non-Whites could own land and/or
reside anywhere they chose, including the predominantly European districts
of all of the country’s major cities. In practice, however, racially segregated
residential settlement patterns were achieved through subtle measures such
as building and subdivision codes that severely disadvantaged the non-White
population. However, it needs to be stated that the French public at home did
not greet reports of efforts to racially segregate residential areas in the colo-
nial territory of Madagascar favorably. This, however, did not deter colonial
officials on the ground in Madagascar as they attempted to defend their
actions on all fronts. In this regard, Marcel Olivier, one of the colonial gov-
ernors who assumed the helm of colonial government in Madagascar after
Gallieni, stated thus (quoted in Wright, 1991),

The segregation of indigenous districts, indispensable in colonial cities, in no

way constitutes, at least for the present, a grievous racial discrimination for
those to whom it applies. In other words, segregation can be based not on
race, but on standard of living . . . and in Madagascar certain districts will be
reserved for inhabitants with a European standard of living. (p. 277)

In 1928, the governor-general took action with the enactment of a law

establishing zones in which only “European construction” was authorized
as a means of making the concept of racial residential segregation a reality.
The colonial architects and/or urban designers were not diplomatic or sub-
tle in advocating racial residential segregation. In an interview for the
Tribune de Madagascar in 1924, for instance, architect Georges Cassaigne
is quoted as explicitly condoning segregation for “those who cannot or will
not live by European standards” (Wright, 1991, p. 278). The group
Cassaigne had in mind included the White proletariat of the colony.
 Njoh / Colonial Philosophies 585

Therefore, in that instance, Cassaigne could not have possibly been

accused of advocating racial residential segregation. However, with respect
to areas outside the capital, where the mix of people and activities was
dense, he ostensibly advocated an open policy of segregation. In 1924,
Georges Cassaigne, his brother Albert, and landscape architect Gustave
François were given the opportunity by Governor-General Olivier to trans-
form their thoughts, especially on matters relating to racial residential seg-
regation, into reality by redesigning the hill station, Antsirabé. The outcome
of this process was an explicitly segregated residential city. In defending
their plan, the Cassaignes and François argued that segregation along cul-
tural, hence racial, lines was necessary on the island, especially given the
need to attract English tourists and businessmen from South Africa.

French Equatorial Africa. The French did not establish any presence in
equatorial Africa until the early 19th century. This is when the French
explorer Savorgnan de Brazza arrived in the interior of the region and estab-
lished French stations in Brazzaville (which he named after himself) in
present-day People’s Republic of Congo, Franceville, and Lambaréné along
the Ogooué River in present-day Gabon. By 1890, French explorers had
reached the upper reaches of the Ubangi River in present-day Central
African Republic. In the process, they signed treaties with many chiefs in
the hinterland. The French were interested in establishing “an axis across
Africa as far as the borders of what was then Abyssinia” (present-day
Ethiopia)—a feat they accomplished, if only briefly, as they were soon
“forced to withdraw from the entire Nile Basin” (de Blij, 1964, p. 205).
French Equatorial Africa, referred to in French as Afrique Équatoriale
Française, was established in 1908 as a federation of French colonies, includ-
ing the territories named above. These territories were known as régions (i.e.,
regions). Until 1934, when FEA was unified as a single colony, each of these
territories had its own lieutenant governor and budget and was relatively
autonomous. As of 1934, the regions were renamed territoires (i.e., territories),
and Brazzaville in Moyen Congo became the capital of the entire colony.
On the pretext of protecting the health of the general public, the French
colonial authorities adopted many ostentatiously racist policies. On this
score, the policy to segregate living areas by race was the most blatant.
There is no shortage of areas throughout colonial Africa where the French
implemented or attempted to implement such policies.
Phyllis Martin (1995) has done a fine job identifying and discussing the
most prominent of these policies in the case of colonial Brazzaville. Colonial
authorities in Brazzaville continued to endure poor living conditions until
586 Journal of Black Studies

1909 when the colonial ministry provided a subsidy for town “improve-
ments.” In 1911, Brazzaville was elevated to the status of commune. Thus,
the town had become a distinct administrative unit, complete with a mayor
and an operating budget. In addition, a town council of four members
appointed by the lieutenant governor of Middle Congo (present-day
Republic of Congo) was created. The four members were drawn from the
small population of Europeans in the town. One of the council’s first most
significant official actions was to racially segregate the town. This was the
first instance in which the racial spatial segregation policy was accorded
physical expression in Brazzaville subsequent to its enactment on March
23, 1908. In 1909, two African villages, Bacongo and Poto-Poto, were
established. African villages were typically relegated to the least desirable
sites. Nowhere else was this truism more brazen than in the case of
Brazzaville’s segregated settlements. One of the African villages, Poto-
Poto, was so named because of its location in a muddy or swampy terrain.
In fact, the word poto-poto means mud in Lingala (the lingua franca of
Congo), Pidgin (the lingua franca of Anglophone West Africa), and a
number of Bantu languages.
As for public security, French colonial authorities used this as a pretext
for instituting draconian policies that strictly limited the movement of
Africans. For instance, a law enacted on December 15, 1926, forbade the
movement of Africans in Brazzaville after 9 p.m. In other words, they
imposed a 9 p.m. curfew on Africans of all ages. This policy was a replica
of one that was also in effect across the Congo River in Leopoldville
(present-day Kinshasa) in Belgian Congo. A number of issues, including
prestige, health, and culture, dominated the discourse on planning in colo-
nial Brazzaville (Martin, 1995). The curfew policy was not the only dracon-
ian piece of legislation that colonial authorities promulgated in Brazzaville.
In fact, prior to enacting the law imposing a curfew hour of 9 p.m. on
Africans, a colonial decree of 1904 had forbidden Africans from playing
drums and dancing at certain hours in Brazzaville. This decree had far-
reaching implications for life in African communities, given the role that
drumming and dancing play in their lives. Drumming and dancing are a sine
qua non in important ceremonies and occasions such as weddings, anniver-
saries, funerals, coronations, and so on. It is necessary to peruse salient parts
of the text of the said decree, which Martin (1995, p. 37) has reproduced.

Tams-tams and other noisy dances are formally forbidden within the urban
perimeter of Brazzaville except in an area from the Felix Faure bridge to the
Dutch House and from the so-called Glaciere River to the Djoue river on the
 Njoh / Colonial Philosophies 587

other side, where tams-tams and other noisy dances will be authorized in
exceptional cases on advance demand, and all natives who want to obtain
such permission must pay a fee of five francs. . . . These dances can only be
authorized once a week from 6 p.m. on Saturday until Sunday morning and
any contravening of this decree will be punished by a fine and 1-5 days in
prison or either of these.

French West Africa. Cities in colonial French West Africa were, like
cities throughout colonial Africa, segregated along racial lines (Freund,
2001; Goerg, 1998; Njoh, forthcoming). Thus, each of the francophone
cities in the region, including Dakar, Bamako, Niamey, Cotonou, Lome,
Abidjan, and Conakry, had its own version of “la ville blanche” (white
town) and “la ville des indigènes” or “le village” (native town or village).
Yet, French colonial authorities insisted that cultural rather than racial seg-
regation was their objective. I focus on urban planning policies in Conakry,
Guinea’s capital city, to illuminate the nature of what French colonial
authorities termed cultural segregation policies, which were designed, the
authorities claimed, to improve living standards and protect cultural values
in the city.
Odille Goerg has undertaken extensive studies of French colonial urban
policies in Conakry (see Goerg, 1987, 1995, 1998). In 1890, Conakry was
just a small town. Subsequent to designating it as the colonial capital,
French colonial authorities made hardly any effort to restrict access to the
town. All that was required of anyone interested in living in this town was
a willingness to clear a plot, enclose it within a fence, and embark on a
building project within 1 year from the date on which he or she was
assigned the plot (Goerg, 1998). One of the earliest official urban planning
initiatives in the town entailed the drawing up of a General Urban Plan,
which covered an area previously occupied by two villages, the Eponym
Conakry in the north and Boulbinet in the south. The Old Village of
Conakry, where the indigenous chief Mery Sekou Soumah resided, was
relocated to the interior to make way for the colonial administrative center.
By 1889, the colonial administrative center was already being alluded to
as the European city, or “la ville Européene,” in contrast to “la ville des
indigène,” or the indigenous town. At the time, this appellation had no basis
in reality as it was racially integrated by any measure. By 1901-1905,
thanks at least in part to Conakry’s rapid growth rate, colonial authorities
promulgated legislation that restricted access to land in the city. Legislation
in this respect was inspired by developments in nearby Sierra Leone, where
British colonial authorities had developed exclusive areas for Whites.
588 Journal of Black Studies

As was the case in Madagascar, French colonial authorities in Guinea

avoided using ostensibly racist language or arguments in their bid to segre-
gate Conakry. Rather, they adopted stringent and excessively restrictive
building codes and other regulations that effectively excluded Africans
from certain areas. In particular, three concentric zones were created
around the colonial government administrative center. This initiative was
accorded official and institutional status by a land use law of September 14,
1901. This law established a central zone around the Government Station,
the Governor’s Residence (Palais du Gouverneur), the Harbour, and the
Railway Station. The cost of developing a piece of land in the city was
inversely proportional to its distance from the Government Station.
On September 23, 1905, the law was revised and made more detailed. In
this respect, the City of Conakry was divided into three specific zones of
approximately equal size. To be located in the first zone, one had to be pre-
pared to spend at least 7.5 F per square meter. The cost of land development
in the second zone was 4.0 F per square meter, and 1.5 F per square meter in
the third zone. Also, all buildings in the area were required to be of durable
(read, European) materials. Furthermore, it was required that all buildings be
completed in, at most, 2 years from the date on which the plan was approved.
In addition, proficiency in the French language was required of all urban res-
idents, particularly those in Conakry. The official rationale for this was that
such proficiency was necessary to comprehend and comply with the legal
demands of urban living, especially as stipulated in the Journal Officiel.
Anyone who met the stipulated requisite skills and conditions regardless of
race, the colonial officials claimed, was eligible to live in Conakry.
This was theoretically sound. However, in practice, very few Africans
met these conditions. Thus, the city remained effectively segregated. Of
course, it would be naïve to believe that the French colonial authorities
were unaware of the implications of the preconditions for urban living,
which they had carefully crafted. But then again, one would have to prove
that some Africans did indeed meet the stipulated conditions but were
denied urban residency to question the motives of the colonial authorities.
In fact, Goerg (1998) uncovered evidence suggesting that Africans were
among the city’s residents during the heyday of colonialism.

Racial Spatial Segregation in British Colonial Africa

The rationale of protecting the health of Europeans was the basis for
tawdry racial residential segregation policies adopted in other West African
 Njoh / Colonial Philosophies 589

towns, notably Freetown, Sierra Leone, where the concept of hill station
development was initially accorded practical meaning in Africa. Freetown’s
Hill Station development resulted from a 1901 decision on the part of the
British colonial powers to racially segregate their tropical colonies (Curtin,
1985; Frenkel & Western, 1988; Goerg, 1998; Njoh, 1999). Some of the
major forces behind this policy included the voices and opinions of
renowned medical officials of the time. One British colonial medical offi-
cer, Dr. William Prout, for instance, bluntly and pejoratively stated thus
(quoted in Frenkel & Western, 1988), “We advocate segregation from the
native” (p. 211). To Prout and others of his ilk, Africans were seen as
the vectors of the deadly malaria disease. Thus, to separate Europeans from
the indigenous population was to separate them from disease. This belief
was buttressed by the findings of a team of British colonial medical officers
led by Dr. Ronald Ross at the University of Liverpool’s School of Tropical
Medicine, which identified the anopheles mosquito as the vector for
malaria (Curtin, 1985; Frenkel & Western, 1988).
In 1899 and 1900, two malaria control experiments were conducted in
Sierra Leone, reputed as the most malaria-infested place in the British
Empire at the time. According to the experiments, the anopheles mosquito
did almost all of its biting and infection at night. Thus, no more than noc-
turnal segregation of the races was called for. Therefore, it was possible, the
medical officers argued, for Europeans to work safely with members of the
indigenous population during the day, returning to their exclusively White
enclaves at night. Based on this line of thought and the “scientific findings”
on which it was premised, racial residential segregation was recommended
as a measure for protecting the British colonial officers from malaria.
The effectiveness of this spatial strategy hinged tightly, it was held, on
the extent to which a distance too great for the malaria-carrying mosquito
to traverse separated the races. This was effectively the basis of the decision
on the part of Joseph Chamberlain, the colonial secretary, to adopt racial
residential segregation as official policy in British tropical colonies. An
immediate upshot of this decision was the construction in 1904 of Hill
Station, an exclusively European residential community overlooking, and
connected to, Freetown (Sierra Leone) by a narrow gauge, custom-built
mountain railway. The policy of racial residential segregation as a method
of prophylaxis was later implemented in other parts of Africa. The argu-
ment that racial residential segregation was a method of prophylaxis is, at
best, dubious and, at worst, ethically indefensible. In the first instance, it
would appear that the decision in favor of segregation was conditioned by
the pervasive racial thinking of the time. In the second instance, it is worth
590 Journal of Black Studies

noting that any health benefits that resulted from the policy were confined
exclusively to Europeans and never members of the indigenous population.
In Nigeria, efforts were made to locate European settlements at least
440 yards—supposedly a distance greater than the anopheles mosquito could
traverse—from the indigenous population (Curtin, 1985; The Economist,
1990). What is even more interesting in the case of Nigeria is the unusual
attention paid to matters of town planning and, in particular, racial residential
segregation, given that there was no significant European settler population
in West Africa, which was notoriously infested with deadly mosquitoes. As
Mabogunje (1992) notes, instructions from the territory’s chief colonial offi-
cial, Lord Luggard, on political and administrative matters included a mem-
orandum on townships. This memorandum, it turned out, was to represent the
blueprint for town planning in the country up to the end of the Second World
War and beyond. Colonial town planning in Nigeria had one principal objec-
tive: ensure better health conditions for the European colonial officials. Its
strategy, notes Mabogunje (1992), “was racist in orientation and segregation-
ist in practice” (p. 74).
This strategy was in line with others, such as those discussed earlier, and
manifested a deep-rooted fear that the European population risked being
infected by Africans unless serious steps were taken to protect the former.
The fear on the part of European colonial officials peaked during the ear-
lier part of the 20th century when there were serious outbreaks of the
bubonic plague in Lagos. In reacting to this epidemic, the colonial officials,
under the auspices of Governor Egerton, moved rapidly to racially segre-
gate the residential areas of Europeans from those of Africans. All Africans
residing around the race course in Lagos were forced to vacate their homes
for European officials. This effectively became a segregated or exclusively
European settlement. Thereafter, detailed guidelines for racially segregated
schemes were drawn up for all major Nigerian cities. Within the framework
of these schemes, each city included three major sectors (Mabogunje,
1992): the native city, the non-European reservation, and the European
reservation. There were no specific guidelines for planning the native city.
The planning codes were detailed and stringent only in the European
reservations. These latter areas were separated from the rest of the city by
green belts measuring, as mentioned earlier, no less than 440 yards. The
aim of the green belts, or what were also known as cordons sanitaires, was
to protect the health of Europeans.
This is only one of several instances in which efforts were made to limit the
fruits of planning exclusively to European settlements in line with the racial
thinking of the time. In Zimbabwe, Rakodi (1996) observes that colonial
 Njoh / Colonial Philosophies 591

officials did everything in their power to ensure the health and safety of the
expatriate population while ignoring conditions in areas inhabited by members
of the indigenous population. As an example, she cites the case of Ndola, a
local municipality, which was reported in the mid-1930s to have a “population
of 4,000 living in 1,700 mud huts 12 feet apart, infested with vermin and pro-
vided with only fifty communal pit latrines” (p. 198).
The framework of the racial thinking of the time dictated a pecking order
for the races rooted in European racial discourse, wherein Whites occupied
the highest rung, Blacks occupied the lowest, and the rest fell in between.
Planning legislation ensured that this order remained unaltered in space.
Thus, for instance, Tanzania, Kenya, or South Africa, where the population
included Whites, Coloured, and Blacks, the best areas and amenities went
to the Whites, whereas the next best went to the Coloured, and the least pre-
ferred went to the Blacks. The Town Planning scheme of Mtwara Harbour
in Tanzania developed during the colonial era best illustrates this point (see,
e.g., Alexander, 1983). This scheme included three major residential divi-
sions referred to as low-, medium-, and high-density zones, respectively.
The first, designed exclusively for Europeans, allocated one acre of land to
each family; the second, designed for Asians, had a density of 20 to 26 per-
sons per acre; and the last, designed for Africans, had a density of 40 per-
sons per acre. Furthermore, in terms of location, the areas designed to be
inhabited by Africans were situated at the outskirts of the city and sur-
rounding the so-called inoffensive industrial zone; the areas inhabited by
Asians were located adjacent to the commercial areas and the university;
and finally, the European areas were located next to the educational center
and recreational facilities.

Racial Segregation Theory and

Reality in Colonial Urban Space

I have already hinted at the incongruity between theory and reality in the
racially segregated spatial structure of cities that were under the colonial
tutelage of France, which professed to practice cultural segregation, and
Britain, which actively and overtly sought to racially segregate colonial
urban space. Odile Goerg (1998) draws attention to this ostensible contra-
diction between theory and reality in the following words:

Despite what seems to be a radical theoretical opposition between the French

and the British approaches, most cities in Africa became characterized by a
592 Journal of Black Studies

sharp contrast between the “white city” and the African districts or so-called
“villages.” (p. 25)

I submit that this incongruity resulted from the fact that the two colonial
powers shared common cultural, psychological, political, economic, social,
and ideological objectives, which could best be achieved through racially
segregated space. This suggests that despite rhetoric to the contrary, French
colonial authorities were no less interested in racially segregating colonial
space than their British counterparts.
To appreciate this line of thought, it is necessary to understand how cul-
tural segregation was tantamount to racial segregation during the early phase
of the colonial époque in Africa. To the extent that culture includes values,
practices, institutions, and norms of a people’s forebears, it is safe to argue
that no native Africans had mastered European culture during the early days
of European colonization in Africa. Also, there were hardly any Africans
with the economic wherewithal to meet the high cost of land development in
“preferred districts.” Therefore, as Njoh (1999) has observed, the strong
correlation between lifestyle/culture and socioeconomic status in colonial
Africa meant that Africans and other non-Whites could be excluded from
preferred areas without resorting to blatantly racist planning legislation.
These facts did not elude the attention of European colonialists. In fact, the
term cultural segregation, which French colonial authorities were wont to
employ, was a known euphemism for racial segregation. In this respect,
authorities are on record for instituting so-called cultural spatial segregation
schemes to racially segregate space in French colonial Africa. The fact that
French colonial authorities in Madagascar employed restrictive building
codes and land development regulations to keep preferred locations and dis-
tricts out of the reach of Africans is illustrative. The colonial authorities on
the ground in Madagascar deemed racial segregation necessary as a means
of attracting South African tourists who had threatened to boycott the island
unless the space, including the beaches, and residential areas were racially
segregated (Njoh, 1999; Wright, 1992).
The need to disguise what were obviously racially discriminatory
policies was dictated by the reaction of the French public in the metropole.
As Njoh (1999) notes, the French populace “at home did not greet reports
of efforts to racially segregate residential areas in the colonial territory of
Madagascar favourably” (p. 69). To appreciate the reason for this negative
reaction to racial discrimination on the part of the French public, one must
first understand the discourse on racism that transpired in France prior to
the onset of the European colonial era in Africa (see above). It would be
 Njoh / Colonial Philosophies 593

recalled that this period was characterized by a general feeling on the part
of French people, particularly the Gauls, that they themselves had suffered
oppression at the hands of the Franks of Germanic extraction. As a conse-
quence, the French viewed themselves as champions of the rights of the dis-
enfranchised and oppressed. This explains, at least in part, the fact that the
French public was negatively predisposed to racist colonial policies that
they saw, and rightly so, as inherently discriminatory and oppressive.
Here, it is important to note that colonial government policies had their
own goals, a good many of which were at odds and sometimes conflicted
sharply with popular sentiments. This is essentially one of the reasons that
colonial authorities deemed it necessary to camouflage the policies. On occa-
sion, it was necessary to replace certain masquerades once they outlived their
utility. This sometimes required rescinding certain pieces of legislation. For
instance, the French colonial urban development policy in Conakry, which
divided up the city into three concentric zones with the government district
as the center, permitted anyone to live in any zone of his or her choice as long
as he or she could meet the conditions stipulated for living in the chosen zone.
It is apparent that the French colonial authorities had underestimated the abil-
ity of Africans not only to meet the exorbitant costs associated with develop-
ing land in Zone I, the most prestigious of all, but also to be “Europeanized.”
This assertion is rooted in the fact that in 1912, the policy to spatially segre-
gate people on the basis of economic means and cultural propensities was
rescinded and replaced with thinly veiled racist spatial policies. In this regard,
certain areas were thereafter reserved for Africans, whereas others were
reserved exclusively for Europeans.

Cultural and ideological reasons for segregation. The need to distinguish

the colonized from the colonizers commanded importance in both British and
French colonial Africa. This need stemmed from the fact that Europeans of
all stripes looked down on Africans. As Vincent Khapoya (1998) eloquently
puts it, “Ample evidence suggests that all European powers did not think
much of Africans or African culture and history” (p. 118). British and French
colonial authorities were unified in their view of Africans as “backward” and
“uncivilized.” Colonial authorities were equally unified in concluding that the
task of “uplifting” and civilizing Africans fell squarely on the colonizers’
shoulders.
European colonial authorities, regardless of heritage, strived to maintain
very clear and rigid distinctions between themselves and “others.” Perhaps
more noteworthy is the fact that they were blatantly ethnocentric. Most
important, colonial authorities viewed African culture with contempt. Thus,
594 Journal of Black Studies

spatially separating Africans from Europeans had two complementary

objectives. The first was to provide Europeans with an enclave where they
could uninterruptedly safeguard and enjoy their Aryan culture. It is there-
fore not any wonder that such enclaves were fitted with amenities such as
golf courses, soccer fields, swimming pools, and so on that were common-
place in upper income neighborhoods in Europe. The second objective of
segregation in this respect was to spare the Europeans the “trouble and
heartache” of being exposed to the “primitive cultural activities of Africans.”
Thus, for instance, in Conakry, Guinea, the French colonial authorities
advanced as one justification for adopting racial segregation policies the
fact that members of the native population, the Mendes, needed their own
space where they could uninterruptedly dance and shout at the top of their
voices. In Brazzaville, Congo, colonial authorities not only confined
members of the native population to the most undesirable portion of town
but completely banned them from dancing or singing within the city limits.
In Freetown, Sierra Leone, a colonial governor justified segregation in the
following overt racist terms (quoted in Goerg, 1998):

The good people in this country do not seem to know that noise is objection-
able. They are born in noise, live in noise, die in noise, and cannot realize that
noise is unpleasant to anybody. (p. 11)

Here, it is important to note that French and British colonial authorities

shared the view that African cultural practices such as dancing and singing
were a menace that needed to be either outlawed or moved to locations as
far away from Europeans as possible.

Psychological rationale for segregated space. There is abundant evi-

dence suggesting that colonial authorities in Africa felt a sense of psycho-
logical insecurity. This sense of insecurity gained expression in many ways
including laws and policies that were designed to spatially separate
Europeans from Africans or the rulers from the ruled. Some of these laws
and policies were borne out of a sense of inferiority on one sociopsycho-
logical dimension or another on the part of Europeans. For instance, as
Khapoya (1998) notes, there was the

fear of sexual inferiority, so common in the literature on racism, . . . this was

translated into laws passed to protect the virtue of white women from the lust
of black men, almost all of whom were believed to be desirous of white
women as to put these women in jeopardy. (p. 232)
 Njoh / Colonial Philosophies 595

Other colonial government policies in this connection include the laws

criminalizing interracial marriages, interracial sexual intercourse, and
apartheid laws that kept certain facilities out of the reach of Africans.
Segregation also permitted colonial authorities to at least symbolically
assert colonial power by establishing a clear visual distinction between the
rulers and the ruled. Goerg (1998) notes that the resultant visual division in
the city or urban dualism was obvious to any visitor in Conakry and was a
common characteristic of French colonial cities (p. 22).

Political rationale for segregated space. French and British colonial

authorities were patently aware of the importance of segregated space as an
instrument of domination. To appreciate the potency of segregation as a tool
of domination, one must understand what segregation entails. As Kim
Dovey (1999) theorizes, segregation tends to create “privileged enclaves of
access, amenity and community” (p. 15). Policies designed to promote seg-
regated space ultimately produced areas of privileged enclaves with monu-
mental structures (such as colonial administrative buildings). Such structures
played a vital role in impressing on the natives that colonial authorities con-
trolled an inordinate amount of resources, which can be tapped for use in
pursuing colonial government objectives including but not limited to arrest-
ing any unruly or disruptive behavior. Therefore, as Dovey (1999) notes, the
size and scale of structures such as buildings cannot be divorced from the
discourses on domination and intimidation. Dovey (1999) sheds more light
on this point by suggesting that exaggerated physical scale dominates by
belittling “the human subject as it signifies the power necessary to its pro-
duction” (p. 10). As architectural symbols of power, grandiose colonial
administrative structures that dramatize the contrast between indigenous
and colonial architecture made up what Nicola Cooper (2000) would call
“a domineering and inviolable image of the imperial nation . . . [and] a vis-
ible expression of the universality of Western concepts of beauty and order”
(p. 77). Frantz Fanon (1963), in The Wretched of the Earth, takes the dis-
course into a psychological realm. As a psychiatrist, Fanon contended that
racially segregated spaces in colonized territories are psychologically
oppressive and amount to a form of violence against members of the indige-
nous population.

Segregation as a strategy for social control. Spatial segregation in colo-

nial Africa cannot be fully understood as a tool of social control while
ignoring the colonialists’ penchant for locating the European residential as
596 Journal of Black Studies

well as colonial administrative districts at high altitudes. Altitude thus

played a crucial role in the exercise of power in colonial Africa. As Winters
(1982) notes, European colonial authorities used topography to symbolize
the unequal distribution of power and wealth and to separate the ruler from
the ruled (p. 141). The preference for locations on higher ground was rooted
in the belief that such locations commanded power. This power can be
appreciated from a number of different perspectives. For instance, higher
ground afforded colonial authorities a commanding view of the surrounding
areas. Therefore, by locating the colonial government offices and European
residential districts at high altitudes, the colonizers were able to monitor the
movements of the colonized who occupied the surrounding lower grounds.
Thus, the colonized were literally under the constant gaze of the colonizers.
From this perspective, it is therefore arguable that segregation facilitated
surveillance and control of the colonized by the colonizers.
As a tool of social control, racial spatial segregation facilitated efforts to
control the movement of Africans, particularly with respect to when and how
they could go and come from the colonial towns. The curfews that French
colonial authorities imposed on Africans in Brazzaville (Congo) and the
notorious Pass Laws in British colonial southern and eastern Africa are illus-
trative of this potency of segregation. It is useful to employ the space syntax
methods (Dovey, 1999; Hillier & Hanson, 1984; Markus, 1993) to facilitate
understanding of the political and social control implications of such decrees.
Spatial syntax analysis reposes on two basic assumptions, both having to do
with the use of delimited space. The first relates to the use of areas outside,
and the second concerns the use of the area within this space. Within this
framework, visitors or strangers have access to outside areas, whereas the
interior of the space is reserved for inhabitants. The inhabitants not only have
an investment in power in, but are the controllers of, everything within and
the immediate surroundings of, the delimited space.
My use of the concept of space here differs slightly from that employed
by Hillier and Hanson, Markus, and Dovey, who concentrate on physical
buildings and walls. Rather, I view space in the Foucaultian sense that sees
buildings and physical walls as only one aspect of space (Foucault, 1982).
Allocation of people in space, in particular the canalization of people’s cir-
culation, can take place without physical walls. In this case, space could be
delimited with other physical markers such as streets, railway tracks, vege-
tation, and topography. In some cases, space may be psychologically delim-
ited. To the extent that this is true, it is safe to conclude that segregated
space was a critical element in the exercise of political power in colonial
Africa.
 Njoh / Colonial Philosophies 597

Economic rationale for segregating colonial space. I have already hinted

at the fact that Europeans found land at high altitudes very desirable. Such
locations, in particular those that were conducive for human habitation, were
scarce. In most cases, colonialism contested for such space with activities
that might have predated the colonial époque. In such cases, colonial author-
ities simply enacted laws, in particular zoning ordinances that redefined the
use of the land, making it available for the exclusive use of Europeans. In
other cases, such as in the heart of the colonial cities, colonial governments
simply invoked the power of eminent domain to confiscate and rezone land
to serve the best interest of the colonial government. It is therefore no won-
der that European districts throughout colonial Africa were located on the
most desirable land, such as breezy areas on the beaches, in the case of
coastal cities, or breezy hilltops, in the case of hinterland towns. Again, it is
important to note that this was as common a phenomenon in colonial terri-
tories controlled by the French as it was in those controlled by the British.
Colonial governments operated in most cases on a shoestring budget,
which rendered the task of supplying basic public infrastructure to what
were already burgeoning urban populations exceedingly difficult. By
adopting racial spatial segregation policies, colonial authorities were able
to limit the limited supply of these services, including electricity, tarred
streets, pipe borne water, and police patrol, strictly to the European dis-
tricts. Thus, policies designed to promote racially segregated space were
part of a broader scheme on the part of European colonial authorities to
concentrate the scarce resources necessary for “the good life” in the hands
of Europeans in colonized territories.
Racial spatial segregation and concomitant policies such as the restric-
tion of the movement of members of the indigenous populations in colonial
Africa had economic overtones. Some of the reasons the colonial authori-
ties advanced for instituting restrictions on the movement of Africans in
colonial cities had to do with the fear of crime. Imposing a curfew on
Africans was therefore considered a strategy for preventing crimes in the
town and especially for protecting the safety of members of the resident
European population. Ideally, the colonial authorities would have preferred
facilities into which Africans could check-in and be locked up every
evening and then released every morning. However, from a Foucaultian
perspective, such a strategy would have been economically inefficient if not
prohibitively costly. This had been evident in France as far back as the 18th
century, when it was considered more economically efficient to place
people under surveillance than to physically lock them up (Foucault, 1980).
Efforts to confine Africans to segregated areas, where they were readily
598 Journal of Black Studies

accessible and highly visible, as well as the concomitant imposition of cur-

few hours therefore arguably were elements in the colonial authorities’
cost-saving surveillance strategy.

Conclusion

The French professed to practice cultural segregation, whereas the

British are well known for instituting policies designed to racially segregate
spatial structures in colonial Africa. Despite the diametrically opposed spa-
tial development strategies of the two colonial powers, colonial cities
throughout Africa were equally segregated along racial lines. I have
attempted to explain this apparent incongruity between theory and practice
in this article. In particular, I contend that cultural segregation was tanta-
mount to racial segregation, especially during the early days of the colonial
era in Africa. More important, racial spatial segregation was more effective
than any other form of segregation in ensuring attainment of crucial goals
of the colonial project that were endeared by both French and British colo-
nial authorities. By conducting the analysis against the backdrop of the dis-
course on racism that took place in France and Britain, in particular, and
Europe, in general, immediately prior to the onset of the European colonial
époque in Africa, I succeeded in promoting understanding of the historical
foundation of the contrasting philosophies of French and British colonial-
ism in Africa. Furthermore, such an undertaking also helped to explain why
the French public systematically and consistently opposed any attempt on
the part of French colonial authorities to institute racist policies in the
colonies and why it was necessary for these authorities to masquerade their
perfidious schemes in less racist garbs.

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Ambe J. Njoh, PhD, a professor of government & international affairs at the University of South
Florida, is the author of more than 30 peer-reviewed articles and five books, including Urban
Planning, Housing and Spatial Structures in sub-Saharan Africa and Planning in Contemporary
Africa. This article is a by-product of his forthcoming book, Planning Power.