The choice of the former editor of the Financial Mail, Nigel Bruce, as a leading candidate for the Democratic Party is somehow symptomatic of the forthcoming general election in South Africa.
If there is one party we would expect to be looking forward to June 2 it is the DP. After all, it seems to stand at least a chance of taking over the mantle of official opposition and, in the process, finally putting the Nats where they belong – among palaeontological exhibits dedicated to extinct forms of (political) life. But, no, it chooses a man whose selection to the bottom of the list, much less the top, would have been a slap in the face for those among whom the DP has the best chance of breaking new ground.
So why did the DP do it? The apparent answer is – because it really does not matter. If our executive president is chosen without ever having to subject himself personally to a popular mandate, what does it matter? With the African National Congress guaranteed an overwhelming majority as the “liberation movement”, what does it matter? With the leader of the ANC arrogating to himself the disposal of provincial leadership positions, what does it matter? With parliamentary seats reduced to counters of party patronage, what does it matter?
After all, if Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi – beginning to prance once more around the battlefields of KwaZulu-Natal, rattling his spears of Zulu chauvinism – is to be paid off post-electorally with high office, what does it matter if a failed hack is paid off for some perceived debt incurred in the financial corridors of power, or friendship fostered over whisky and soda in the precincts of the Rand Club?
Is this the political legacy of “liberation” in which the world rejoiced so recently? Are we really any more of a democracy than Kenya under one-party rule, where the electorate at least had a choice, through robust constituency contests, as to which individuals would represent them in Parliament? Is this as far as the democratic ideal goes, is this the legacy we would leave to our children?
Nelson Mandela, to his ever-growing credit, signalled his discomfort with the present electoral system in his farewell speech to Parliament. If Bruce were able to survive the hustings in a constituency battle with his record of racial intolerance and questionable financial rectitude, we might respect his elevation to parliamentary office.
As it is we can only suggest that the DP recommit itself to the ideals which usually are so well articulated by its leader’s rhetoric, rather than stooping to indulge in the cynical exploitation of the status quo.
Lucky to be alive
It is difficult not to feel relief at the decision of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s amnesty committee to refuse amnesty to Chris Hani’s killers.
Anyone who knew Hani could recognise the considerable contribution he had to make, not only to the peace process he was engaged in when he died, but to the resolution of some of the problems faced by present-day South Africa. His assassination, clearly intended to provoke civil war, was a truly murderous blow aimed at the new society we are in the process of building.
That having been said, it is possible to offer at least some understanding of the anger felt on the other side of the political fence – particularly among the relatives – at what seems to be a disparity in treatment of the killers in the context of the amnesty process. Was not Hani – the former military leader of a revolutionary party contending for political power by force of arms – a more “legitimate” target than the young and idealistic Amy Biehl? Or than the 11 worshippers who were mown down in St James’s church by hand grenades and automatic gunfire as they knelt and prayed? As outraged as commonsense might be, a closer perusal of the judgment and the amnesty application on which it was based shows it to be consistent with the Act governing the truth body.
Instead, we would refer those on the right who would criticise the decision as “political” to our story on PAGE 11 about Solomon Mahlangu, the young Umkhonto weSizwe operative who was executed at Pretoria Central prison 20 years ago for a crime he did not even commit.
For him, there was no amnesty, no mercy, no last-minute stay from the gallows. Fortunately for Clive Derby-Lewis and Janusz Walus, the values they fought to perpetuate, the values that sent Mahlangu to an early grave, have been overthrown and replaced by new standards of civilisation brought to South Africa by the ANC.
We would point out, along with South African Communist Party assistant general secretary Jeremy Cronin, that if the roles were reversed the necks of Derby-Lewis and Walus would have long since been broken.