/ 3 December 1999

SA ignores the Pinochet precedent

John Stremlau

SECOND LOOK

Whatever ails former Ethiopian dictator Mengistu Haile Mariam, his presence in a private Pretoria clinic carries a political disease that could weaken South Africa’s international image and the vitality of its foreign policy.

Human rights define South Africa, domestically and internationally. It is the mainspring for the nation’s extraordinary prestige and influence. The struggle against apartheid, after all, was a global moral crusade that can only be compared to the great anti-slavery campaigns of the 19th century. The principles were the same but the politics were very different.

Whereas abolitionists focused on the plight of dispersed minorities, the African National Congress sought the overthrow of a much broader form of state repression. And to South Africa’s great credit, the process by which apartheid was brought to an end stands in sharp contrast to America’s massive civil war. The implications for global order were also different.

Abraham Lincoln spoke mainly to Americans. Nelson Mandela spoke to the world. As he wrote in 1994: “While governments should be mindful of the high ideals of human rights, they should be conscious of a democratic realism that surrounds the issue, too. The neglect of human rights is the certain recipe for internal and international disaster.” Human rights thus acquire a new strategic importance in foreign policy, for conflict prevention, national security and sustainable economic development.

As a reward for its domestic political achievements, South Africa has been chosen to lead a remarkable array of multilateral groups, including the Southern African Development Community, the Non-aligned Movement, the Commonwealth, and the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development. This has also lent weight to South Africa’s voice in the councils of the north, where it has begun to call for a new partnership between the north and the south to moderate the negative forces of globalisation and to promote common security on the basis of shared commitments to human rights and democratic values. South Africa seeks to advance its global vision by calling for a “people-centred” approach to security and development.

Thus, on the eve of next year’s special UN Millennium Assembly, South Africa is uniquely positioned to press for “democratic realism” on a truly grand scale. The deal: the First World eventually must agree to greater democratic governance globally in return for the Third World accepting higher standards of human rights and good governance locally. In this way, the long-overdue post-Cold War peace dividend might finally be realised. Both north and south would gain from the curtailment of costly complex humanitarian emergencies and an expanding and more equitable rule-based global economy.

Against this backdrop, and in the aftermath of the British Law Lords ruling that former Chilean general Augusto Pinochet could be extradited to face charges of crimes against humanity, it was reckless of South Africa to allow the more notorious Mengistu into the country.

Moreover, as a leading proponent and early signatory of the International Criminal Court, the UN Convention against Torture, and various other human rights instruments, much greater risks to South Africa’s international standing could lie ahead. Already human rights activists are mobilising. A claim against Mengistu could be lodged locally by an Ethiopian political exile or extradition could be sought by a third country. The legal wrangling might prove inclusive but the politics would be awful. Locally it would be seen by government critics as another sign of failing to get tough with criminals. Globally, it would undermine the broad strategy noted above.

One has to ask, therefore, who really gains from Mengistu’s medical treatment. The answer must be Robert Mugabe. By providing Ethiopia’s sickly former despot with a questionable diplomatic passport Mugabe cleverly circumvented the need for a South African visa. He probably figured Pretoria would prefer to avoid making this an issue at a time when relations are already badly strained. And there are several seemingly more pressing demands that President Thabo Mbeki wants met, including adherence to the badly frayed Lusaka Peace Accord in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

It is no secret that Mugabe has long resented South Africa’s international prominence and regional power. As his domestic woes increase, along with his personal aggrandisement, South Africa’s success and the global trend in support of human rights and accountable governance pose a greater threat.

So why not slip South Africa a “poison pill” in the form of Mengistu? At a minimum it should reassure Zimbabwe’s regional allies that Pretoria’s human rights bark belies any bite. And should Mengistu’s presence cause a furore in the global media it might deflect international criticism of Mugabe’s failing policies.

South Africa gains nothing from harbouring Mengistu, other than appeasing Mugabe. Before matters deteriorate further he should sent back to Zimbabwe, if not to stand trial in Ethiopia. The hospital facilities in Zimbabwe are, after all, very good and we can only wonder why he could not have been treated there. Secondly, if upon further analysis Pretoria concludes that Mugabe had ulterior motives, some form of political or economic retribution is in order. Finally, it seems inconceivable that much thought went into the decision to let Mengistu fly in with such dubious diplomatic credentials. Better procedures are needed.

Governments like people get distracted, can be naive, or are sometimes deceived. Whatever the reasons, let this be a warning. South Africa lacks the military might and political inclination to impose its will on others. Its vision of an “African renaissance” and a new north-south dispensation gains credibility from how well it attends to its own affairs.

This means not only advocating and practising human rights and democratic values, but also defending against those forces that threaten to undermine or discredit those commitments.

John Stremlau is professor and head of international relations at Wits