David Beresford highlights aspects of FW de Klerk’s soon to be released autobiography, in which the former state president describes his stormy relationship with the `vicious’ Nelson Mandela
Former state president FW de Klerk has prepared a broadside against President Nelson Mandela in their long-running feud over their respective places in history, with his long-awaited autobiography.
The Last Trek: A New Beginning contains lengthy accounts of the bitter squabbles which developed between the two men who, ironically, jointly won the world’s greatest prize for their combined contributions to peace in South Africa.
The book recounts how De Klerk first met Mandela in 1989 when the then prisoner and unrehabilitated “terrorist” was smuggled into Tuynhuis through the basement garage.
“During most of the meeting each of us cautiously sized up the other,” says De Klerk. “The first impressions that he conveyed were of dignity, courtesy and self-confidence. He also had the ability to radiate unusual warmth and charm – when he so chose.”
The qualification was a judicious one, because his regard for Mandela soon began to slip – when the African National Congress leader made his first public address, to the rally on Cape Town’s Grand Parade on the day of his release. He “failed completely to rise to the occasion”, says De Klerk, delivering a speech “evidently drafted by hardline ideologues” recommitting the ANC to the armed struggle.
Relations between the president and his predecessor began their slide into insults and recriminations with the opening speeches at the Codesa I peace talks, at the World Trade Centre, when De Klerk criticised the ANC over its alleged breaches of the earlier DF Malan accord.
Mandela, who had already spoken, insisted on returning to the podium to deliver what De Klerk calls “one of the most vicious personal attacks on a political opponent that most of those present at Codesa had ever heard.
“He accused me of being the head of an illegitimate discredited minority regime and of being incapable of upholding moral standards,” De Klerk says indignantly. “As he piled insult on insult I found it difficult to control my fury. My first reaction … was to walk to the microphone and rip off the ANC’s mask in the strongest possible verbal counter- attack.”
Fortunately, says De Klerk, “Mandela spoke long enough to give me time to regain control of myself”. Realising that his entire reform crusade could be at stake he decided not to respond. “National interest demanded I should transcend my own ego.”
When Codesa adjourned for the Christmas season, Mandela shook De Klerk’s hand goodbye. “I accepted Mandela’s gesture as gracefully as I could,” says De Klerk, “but felt that there was no longer any possibility of our ever again having a close relationship. The fact remained that Mandela’s vicious and unwarranted attack created a rift between us that never again fully healed.”
The relationship continued to be eroded by the series of domestic crises which accompanied the hair-raising ride to a settlement. It deteriorated further when the unhappy couple made their separate ways to Oslo to collective their respective shares in the Nobel Peace Prize. “Before my arrival he [Mandela] had chosen once again to attack me in interviews he had given to the media. Apparently he was not pleased with the decision to include me in the award.”
The awards ceremony itself passed off peacefully, but later De Klerk and his wife, Marike, were subjected to insults by the Norwegians when the couple were taken on to a balcony with Mandela to witness a “spontaneous” torchlight parade in the snow. “It was very picturesque and quaint. Then they started shouting ANC slogans, praising Mandela while I was made to feel quite unwelcome. I heard some of the people shouting: `Kill the farmer, kill the boer.'”
The relationship finally hit rock- bottom over the vexed question of who got which presidential mansion in Pretoria after De Klerk had lost the presidency to Mandela.
Mandela was expected to move into the Presidency, which used to accommodate the ceremonial state president, and De Klerk was told that, as co-deputy president, he and Marike could remain in Libertas. Then Mandela told him that he was under great pressure from the ANC to move into Libertas, as that was seen to be the home of the head of government.
“No sooner had we become used to this idea than he informed me that he was now under pressure from his senior colleagues to use the Presidency for other purposes.”
The De Klerks were then given Overvaal, the former home of the Transvaal administrators. The Department of Public Works agreed that Overvaal needed substantial refurbishing. “The final humiliation that I had to endure in the saga of the official residence was when President Mandela insisted on personally inspecting Overvaal to satisfy himself that the refurbishment was, indeed, necessary.
“One winter Saturday morning he joined me and the public works architect at Overvaal. Together we walked through the house while the architect explained why a new fridge was needed here and repainting and redecoration was needed there.”
De Klerk said it was a matter of “supreme indifference” to him which of residence they occupied. “But not Marike. She was deeply distressed by all the chopping and changing which she interpreted as a calculated attempt by Mandela himself to humiliate us … This latest humiliation became too much for her to swallow. She became very critical of Mandela and did not hesitate to voice her criticism.”
Much of the autobiography is taken up with attempts by De Klerk to justify his involvement in the apartheid system. “Like any other people in the world at any time in history we were the products of our time and circumstances,” he pleads, going on to exculpate himself with accounts of his “liberal” gestures – from his defiance of Potchefstroom University authorities by inviting Chief Albert Luthuli to an off-campus meeting, to his administration of the race classification laws “in the most humane manner possible”.
He also goes to great lengths to distance himself from state violence, including the activities of the so-called third force. He describes how, in January 1990, he was on holiday at a presidential residence on the Natal coast when General Magnus Malan flew down to tell him that he had just discovered the existence of the military assassination squad, the Civil Co-operation Bureau (CCB).
“General Malan appeared to be as shocked as I was and assured me he had taken immediate steps to investigate and disband the organisation.”
Declaring that the activities of such as the CCB were “deplorable and inexcusable”, De Klerk says their attempts to undermine the transformation process bordered on treason.
De Klerk is savage in his portrayal of his predecessor, PW Botha, a man whom he describes as a “bombastic bully” who ran an “imperial” style of government, surrounding himself with 500 personal staff and cutting himself off from reality.
He paints a pitiful picture of Botha in retirement, apparently descending into senility. He recounts how at one stage he visited the old man in his home in Wilderness, to try and persuade him to make a joint submission with the National Party to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
Botha had no interest in the idea as they talked over coffee and koeksisters, abruptly switching the subject of conversation to accuse the younger man of joining “an evil conspiracy in the world, called the New World Order” which was led by then United States president George Bush and included former minister of foreign affairs Pik Botha.
“I became extremely annoyed and told him that I had not come to visit him to be insulted and cross-examined,” recalls De Klerk. “I said that he had really treated me very badly.”
PW Botha looked taken aback. “He said it was unfair of me to say that I had been treated badly; after all, his wife had given me coffee and koeksisters. I almost fell off my chair. I stood up and said now I had to go.”
De Klerk also rehearses the now well- known story of how he abandoned his wife and religious principle in favour of Elita Georgiadis, the wife of their “good friend”, the Greek shipping magnate, Tony Georgiadis.
He describes how Tony Georgiadis had come to him in Cape Town, to inform the South African head of state “that he had become aware of the love between me and Elita. A painful yet friendly and civilised discussion followed. I had great respect for the dignified way in which he dealt with a very difficult situation.”
De Klerk assures the reader that “my relationship with Elita did not impact in any significant way on the major [political] decisions I took”.