RARELY in South African public life can a document have been produced which is as politically explosive as the 64-page indictment (including addenda) presented last Friday in the Magnus Malan case. What makes it paradoxical is that there are, as of yet, no political repercussions.
The explanation, of course, is that it is an indictment in a criminal matter and society considers it unfair to the accused to comment on charges before the trial. The document is, therefore, relegated to a state of limbo.
But, even there, the contents of the
indictment are so astonishing as to demand immediate recognition, debate
and possibly even action — with particular regard to one individual who does
not appear among the 20 accused and whose rights to a fair trial are therefore not prejudiced: Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi.
The indictment contains extraordinary allegations against the Minister of Home Affairs. Put simply, it alleges that on a precisely identifiable date in 1985 the chief — while pretending to be the arch-foe of apartheid — threw his lot in with the security forces of the apartheid state. On top of that, the document suggests that at his personal initiative, the security forces then gave birth to what appears to have been the Third Force.
Supping with the devil, the indictment implies, the chief not only failed to use a long spoon, but enjoyed carnal relations with the beast.
“Not proven” goes up the cry from his defenders. True enough. But the chief is not an accused, at least in the criminal arena. In the political domain, where
the indictment can hardly be seen as anything less than an accusation, the chief is to be judged by a different process.
The allegations have been made against the chief by a reputable team of special investigators — including such men as Colonel Frank Dutton — and have been given to the (notoriously conservative) imprimatur of the Attorney General of KwaZulu-Natal, Tim McNally.
The chief occupies one of the highest offices of state in the land. It is surely intolerable that allegations as serious as those levelled against him should be allowed to stand without answer for what is likely to be the lengthy duration of a trial only scheduled to begin in March next year.
If on grounds of judicial probity he feels unable to offer a defence in advance of that trial we can only suggest that he relegate himself to a state of limbo.
If a police officer or civil servant were similarly accused by such as Dutton and McNally they would immediately be suspended on full pay. Perhaps it is time for a holiday,
… or lobbing leather balls
On the fifth day of the second Test between England and South Africa, after a total of two runs had been scored in an hour’s play, a television commentator remarked on the drama of the game.
With 18 balls to go England had only five wickets in hand and no chance of winning. Upon which the South African skipper solemnly shook hands with the English captain in congratulation and they all departed the field. On the stands the crowd stood and applauded in admiration while around the country men and women settled back in their chairs and reflected that life is marvellous.
What all this means is of course a mystery known only to initiates — it no doubt has something to do with Dunkirk and maybe 1066 and all that.
But in the secure knowledge that all is right in a world where grown men spend five days lobbing leather balls at sticks stuck in the ground, may we add our congratulations to Mike Atherton, while predicting they will not be able to do it again. Whatever it was.