South Africa is once again a focus of the world's attention. As 1988 came to a close, ominous signs of racist regression added an incendiary element to an already explosive political situation.
A resurgent Conservative Party composed of right-wing whites is determined to enforce strict apartheid laws at the municipal level. These laws are comprehensive. They call for the total separation of races in all public places and facilities.
The Conservative Party gained control of 60 of the 95 municipal councils in Transvaal Province in October's segregated, nationwide municipal elections. The Conservatives have wasted no time in taking steps toward making sure that South Africa's future remains in the past. Already, the city councils in the towns of Boksburg, Brakpan, and Carletonville have voted to put back in place "whites only" signs in public areas. Carletonville went even further and voted to consider putting a curfew on blacks in white neighborhoods.
One of the most controversial initiatives undertaken by some of these town councils is the closing down of black businesses in white districts. Blacks in surrounding townships in the Transvaal are staging a boycott of white stores in retaliation. White business leaders, feeling the financial pinch, have asked the councils to reconsider, saying that local economies are being irreparably damaged because of the loss of business. To date, the council members are remaining defiant.
The Conservatives say they are carrying out the will of the people who voted for them, claiming a mandate for change to "combat South Africa's degeneration into a Third World country," said one Conservative spokesperson. Leaders of the Conservative Party have engaged in a highly publicized debate with the National Party government of President P. W. Botha. Botha, simultaneously trying to change South Africa's pariah image around the world and fend off threats of tougher economic sanctions by the United States and Europe, is the target of a white backlash for being perceived as caving in to blacks.
An examination of the conflict between Botha and the Conservatives, however, reveals a contradiction. Botha maintains that the Conservatives' agenda is a threat to law and order because it will spark new conflicts with blacks and expose South Africa to new sanctions. He fails to mention that the Conservatives are merely enforcing laws already on the books, namely the Group Areas Act, which were enacted by the National Party in the 1950s.
The National Party's hypocrisy becomes even more apparent when one realizes that in many of the communities they control, apartheid laws are enforced and were never relaxed or repealed. The spat between the Conservatives and the Nationalists, then, indicates that apartheid is as strong as ever in South Africa.
THE DEVELOPMENTS IN THE Transvaal only exacerbate passions already aroused over the outcome of South Africa's most significant political trial since Nelson Mandela and other African National Congress (ANC) leaders were convicted of treason more than 20 years ago. In November, a provincial Supreme Court judge in Pretoria found Moses Chikane, Patrick Lekota, and Popo Molefe, leaders of the United Democratic Front (UDF), guilty of treason. (They were sentenced on December 8, 1988, to 10 to 12 years in prison.) Also convicted was Rev. Thomas Manthatha, an activist from the black township of Sharpeville, who received a six-year prison term.
During the three-year trial, not one shred of evidence was presented which would indicate that the four activists ever advocated or actually used violence. Instead, they were charged with helping to create an atmosphere of violence while organizing a rent strike and protest march in Sharpeville in 1984. Four black councilmembers were killed in the violence that occurred.
The prosecution's entire argument was based on the concept of guilt by association. Throughout the trial, the UDF was portrayed as a threat to the government in the same manner as the African National Congress (ANC). The activists said that the goal of the UDF was "the abandonment of apartheid, the ending of white privilege, and the extending of the vote to all" in South Africa, not overthrowing the government, which is the stated purpose of the ANC.
The guilty verdict in this case is particularly heinous not only because no evidence exists to support it, but also because it erases the line between nonviolent resistance and armed struggle. Anyone who is intelligent, articulate, outspoken, and charismatic--as are these four activists--can be charged with treason.
Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu noted that in any democratic society, these activists would not be terrorists. "If any of these people are sent to prison, I will not, rest until I get them out," Tutu said. "If this is treason, then I am guilty of treason."
Frank Chikane, general secretary of the South African Council of Churches (no relation to Moses Chikane), summed up the verdict best: "If they want to move against the people on the basis of this judgment, they will have to lock up everybody."
It is clear that the verdict was aimed not only at these activists, but black leadership in general. The UDF, which represents two million blacks in 700 anti-apartheid organizations, is already severely restricted by a banning order issued last February under the state of emergency laws. This treason verdict virtually outlaws the group in theory, if not in fact.
Anti-apartheid activists note that the government will be handicapping itself if these activists, and others like them, are imprisoned. These are the kind of people the government will need to talk to if they want peace.
TWO OTHER SIGNIFICANT events have taken place recently. President Botha granted clemency in November to six blacks known as the "Sharpeville Six," who had been sentenced to death after being charged with "terrorism." They were instead given sentences ranging from 18 to 25 years in prison.
These six activists were also not accused of actually killing anyone, but sharing a "common purpose" with the angry mob that did. Their trial and conviction caused an international uproar, and forced Botha to commute their sentences.
The mainstream media in this country have portrayed Botha's actions as an act of mercy by a compassionate man. They ignore the irony in this case. Simply exchanging punishments--long prison terms instead of death--for cases in which no evidence exists to warrant either sentence makes the whole issue of clemency irrelevant. The fact is that the charge for which they were convicted remains illegitimate.
An example of Botha's duplicity in this case is his granting clemency to four white policemen who were guilty of murder. The evidence against the whites is overwhelming. Two of the officers beat a black youth so badly that they decided to kill him to cover up their brutality. The other two officers were convicted of killing suspected black and Indian drug dealers. They were given sentences of 15 to 25 years in prison.
Botha seems to think that handing down true justice in one instance excuses a miscarriage of justice in another. It does not.
Zwelahke Sisulu, editor of the anti-apartheid newspaper New Nation, was released from prison in early December after being detained for two years without being charged with a crime. His freedom, however, is conditional. Sisulu must report to the police in Johannesburg twice daily, and remain in his home from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. He is forbidden to travel outside of Johannesburg, he cannot participate in any anti-apartheid activities (which means he cannot return to his job), and he is not allowed to meet with more than 10 people at a time.
Here again, there is a catch. Should Sisulu violate the terms of his "freedom," he can be charged with breaking the state of emergency laws and sent back to prison for 10 years.
Both developments, while obviously bringing a small measure of joy to family and friends, are widely interpreted by activists and government insiders as being part of an overall plan designed by Botha to mute criticism and curry favor from abroad.
Meanwhile, violence against the church in South Africa is escalating. In August, Khotso House (the "House of Peace")--the headquarters of the South African Council of Churches in Johannesburg--was bombed. In October, the office of the Southern African Bishops Conference was the object of an arson attack. Fortunately, there were no injuries in either incident.
Since their nonviolent march on Parliament last February, church leaders have been subject to all kinds of harassment. They have been detained, their homes and offices have been burglarized, and their sermons and other materials have been confiscated.
The actions of the South African government during the last several months make their intentions clear. They intend to wage a campaign of terror against dissent on both the political and spiritual fronts. Now only the church stands between total chaos and hope.
The church in South Africa is on the front lines in the freedom struggle. That is a dangerous place to be. Rev. Frank Chikane has already said: "I don't believe we can avoid the cross as a church now.... For us to go over into victory, we will have to go through the cross."
Anthony A. Parker was assistant news editor of Sojourners when this article appeared.
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