Truth May Do More Than Hurt As Apartheid’s Crimes Are Told

CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA —  One of the great challenges for the new South Africa is to come to grips with the country’s bitter heritage of apartheid while creating an atmosphere in which whites and blacks can work together for the common good. The African National Congress would have preferred to have held Nuremberg-style war-crimes trials, given the gross and systematic human-rights abuses perpetuated by successive white regimes. But the ANC did not ride victoriously into Pretoria on tanks; it came to power through a negotiated revolution because it could not militarily defeat the white regime. Part of the deal the ANC struck with the white government of Frederick W. de Klerk effectively prevented the kind of quick retaliation so many of its members yearned for. Yet, the crimes of the past are too great and too common for the new government to ignore.

The compromise the ANC reached was to form a Truth and Reconciliation Commission headed by Archbishop Desmond Tutu. The risk, especially in the wake of recent revelations concerning the circumstances surrounding Steven Biko’s death while in custody in 1977, is that truth may be so harsh that it disrupts the country’s transition to democracy.

The commission’s basic thrust is to grant amnesty to those who confess their crimes. Its goal is a much-needed closure for the many South Africans who saw their mothers, fathers, sons and daughters killed, “disappeared” or tortured between 1948 and 1994. For whites, especially former members of the security apparatus, the commission is a means to live in the new South Africa despite their unseemly past. There is another incentive for them to tell all: Those who do not confess may be prosecuted for their crimes.

The new government hopes that the commission will provide a modus vivendi for the country to move forward. Toward this end, the commission can suggest innovative solutions to address past wrongs. For example, it might recommend that a school be named for a teacher who was killed protesting apartheid.

Tutu’s moral authority is crucial to the commission’s standing in the eyes of all South Africans. Indeed, in the early months of the commission, the archbishop went out of his way to make sure that the ANC applied for amnesty for its crimes (for example, with respect to abuses committed on its military bases) so that the panel would appear absolutely impartial. To date, it seems the commission has won the grudging acceptance of the majority of South Africans.

For most of last year, the Truth Commission provided an extraordinary emotional outlet for victims whose stories had not been told. The seemingly endless accounts of state-sponsored murder and torture told by ordinary people represented a radical departure from the censored past. Even those who had participated in the highest levels of South African politics were astonished to find out that the old regime’s iron fist had reached into every corner of the old South Africa. The televised hearings forced white South Africans to confront what had been done in their name.

Now the commission’s work has become more complex. The disclosure that five policemen have come forward and admitted, in anticipation of receiving amnesty, that they killed Biko thrusts into sharp relief the cost that the nation will have to pay to move forward. The Biko case is notable both because he was so prominent and because at least part of the Biko family has refused to accept the idea of amnesty for anyone connected to his death. Indeed, they mounted an unsuccessful attempt to get the Truth and Reconciliation Commission declared unconstitutional. Yet, it seems clear that Biko’s killers will walk now that they have admitted their crime.

There will be many more unpalatable decisions the commission will have to make that will sorely test the tolerance of black South Africans. More typical than the widely known Biko case is the Trust Feeds Massacre, as it is called. In December 1988, 11 people were killed when security forces attacked a house suspected of being occupied by anti-apartheid protesters. It turned out to be the wrong house and the wrong people. Even the old regime could not cover up this blunder. The constables involved and the officer in charge, Brian Mitchell, were given death sentences, later commuted to 30-years imprisonment. The commission has granted amnesty to Mitchell (the others were released under a previous indemnification) because he made a full confession and because his crimes were of a political nature. He is free to live in the new South Africa while the relatives of Mseleni Ntuli, Dudu Shangase, Maritz Xaba and others killed that night deal with their losses.

The strains of acknowledging the scope of the crimes without the vengeance so many demand is beginning to show on the commission. Petty conflicts are increasingly leaked to the press; there are hints that the carefully chosen commissioners are divided along racial lines on some issues. In addition, Tutu has just been diagnosed with prostate cancer and must take temporary leave. His uncertain future greatly complicates the commission’s workings because Dr. Alex Boraine, Tutu’s replacement, lacks, as a white liberal, the moral authority needed to keep the commission from fracturing.

Even more problematic is whether the commission will actually accomplish its goal of a full disclosure of the past. It seems clear that many of the foot soldiers of the old regime will confess and win amnesty. But there are few signs that the senior officials, including white politicians and generals, who had ultimate responsibility for implementing apartheid will come forward. The protracted transition afforded them plenty of time to destroy the paper trails leading to the brutality and bungling that were once so common. In addition, senior officials, many of whom continue to play a prominent role in the new South Africa, may be betting that the Mandela government lacks the will to prosecute them if they do not avail themselves to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Accordingly, only a few will probably come forward to acknowledge their crimes and receive amnesty. The overwhelming majority will not be prosecuted, although they may be implicated in the commission’s final report.

Such are the ambiguities of the new South Africa. The government seeks to improve the lives of the African majority fast enough so that it will be able to justify the unpalatable prospect of partial truth and some reconciliation as the price of progress. If the government stumbles, there will undoubtedly be some who will try to open the readily exploitable wounds of the past as a way of gaining favor. But the ANC recognizes that it must temper its reaction to the past, given how it came to power and the continuing importance of the white population to the economy and in the security forces.

The Mandela government has probably made the right decision in balancing tactics and principles. Few in South Africa will be happy with the job the commission does but history will absolve the sentiments behind it.