THE shock decision to close the Institute for Democracy in Africa, on financial grounds, has amazed many people. South Africa’s democracy so often seems to be on thin ice, and some believe an organisation dedicated to promoting it is needed now more than ever.
But, in this case, as in so many other good causes, the power of economics – especially the legacy of the 2008 financial crisis – has drastically cut the amount of money available for promoting democracy across the world but especially in Africa, where Idasa recently directed its interest.
Idasa’s focus on Africa, however, was a kind of second life for the organisation – its first life was directed at bringing democracy to South Africa which is why it was once called the Institute for Democracy in South Africa – hence the acronym Idasa.
And it was in this first struggle that East London, for both tragic and celebratory reasons, featured prominently on its agenda.
But how was it that an organisation which openly aimed at political change, like Idasa, was created in the teeth of apartheid?
Idasa was the brainchild of the late Frederik van Zyl Slabbert, the charismatic former leader of the official opposition in the white parliament, who controversially resigned from this position in February 1986 to work for meaningful change in South Africa.
His thinking relied on an old idea: if you want to change the world, change the way people think about it. So, in apartheid South Africa, it was necessary – no, essential – to change the way that whites thought about their future under apartheid. In order to do so, however, he needed an organisation.
Several days after Van Zyl Slabbert left parliament, another opposition MP, Alex Boraine – who would of course eventually become the deputy chair of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) – resigned his seat.
If Van Zyl Slabbert’s genius was the conceptualisation of an idea, and to brilliantly articulate it, Boraine was an organiser of note: operating in harness, they were to be a formidable team.
An early task was to set up offices across the country and to appoint staff who shared their vision and passion, and who were willing to take the not inconsiderable risks of talking about change in the face of the apartheid state’s obsession with security.
And so it was, in the latter part of 1986, that a branch of Idasa was established in East London.
It was directed by two South Africans of very different backgrounds but who, interestingly, were of an age. One of these was Steve Fourie, who was the pastor of the Nahoon Methodist Church. Educated in the once-famous theology faculty at Rhodes University, Fourie had worked with Boraine through the Methodist Church.
It was to be a difficult move for Fourie, this new calling: for some months he combined his pastoral responsibilities in Nahoon with his co-directorship of Idasa’s East London office. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, his “flock” were a little suspicious not only of his dual life, but also of his newly-found passion for change. Was this “political”, they worried?
The other Idasa director was Eric Mntonga, whose working life as a factory worker has drawn him into the South African Allied Worker’s Union.
He was a man of considered ways who was slow to anger; these traits and his opposition to apartheid, led to leadership in several fields, too. One of these leadership positions was on the Committee of Ten, an organisation that was established to deal with an ongoing bus boycott.
Mntonga was its chair. He was also a member of the ANC which, of course, had to be hidden from the authorities.
Working together, Mntonga and Fourie began pushing for change on several fronts in East London.
Much of these were innocent – like talking to business people, and showing videos on the importance of change in the public library.
They were assisted by several enthusiastic supporters, the redoubtable Terry Bryceland, the general manager of the Daily Dispatch, was one such.
But these green shoots would tragically end one Saturday in July 1987, when Mntonga was taken to the Mdantsane police station for questioning. That afternoon he was murdered, after a long and sustained period of torture, by the so-called “elite unit” of the Ciskeian security forces.
Although the homeland authorities tried to cover up the murder – the findings of a quick “informal inquest” in to the killing were overturned, several months later, by a judicial inquiry presided over by Judge Benjamin de Villiers Pickard, who was then the chief justice of the Ciskei.
On a cold August day, Eric Mntonga was buried in Mdantsane.
I remember the day as if it was yesterday: the deep melodious hymns and the open coffin were surrounded by the banners of unions, the United Democratic Front and, of course, the ANC. The anthems of liberation were sung as they often were during that time, South Africa’s age of political funerals.
By that time, however, the national dynamics around Idasa had changed. It had gone global! This was the result of a famous meeting that Idasa had organised in Dakar, Senegal, between a group of white South Africans – mainly Afrikaners – and the exiled ANC.
As a result, the tenor of the relationship between the apartheid state and Idasa changed. For all the blustering over the Dakar visit in the very parliament that Van Zyl Slabbert had quit 18 months before, the organisation – and its message – was protected by international opinion.
Mntonga’s funeral marked the beginning of the end of Fourie’s sojourn as Idasa’s co-director in East London. But, before he moved, the South African security police were determined to give him and Idasa a rough ride.
In a telephone interview last week, Fourie, who has been the registrar of Rhodes University for the past 18 years, told me that on an outing with his family one day shortly after Mntonga’s murder, the security police threatened the lives of his young children.
Looking back on these events today, Idasa’s press for change seems to have been such an obvious – even innocent – exercise. But Eric Mntonga’s tragic death suggests the risk in their approach those long years ago.
Peter Vale is professor of humanities at the University of Johannesburg. He served on the national board of Idasa from 1986 till 1996. His second article on Idasa will appear tomorrow
Forging democracy in SA
But, in this case, as in so many other good causes, the power of economics – especially the legacy of the 2008 financial crisis – has drastically cut the amount of money available for promoting democracy across the world but especially in Africa, where Idasa recently directed its interest.
Idasa’s focus on Africa, however, was a kind of second life for the organisation – its first life was directed at bringing democracy to South Africa which is why it was once called the Institute for Democracy in South Africa – hence the acronym Idasa.
And it was in this first struggle that East London, for both tragic and celebratory reasons, featured prominently on its agenda.
But how was it that an organisation which openly aimed at political change, like Idasa, was created in the teeth of apartheid?
Idasa was the brainchild of the late Frederik van Zyl Slabbert, the charismatic former leader of the official opposition in the white parliament, who controversially resigned from this position in February 1986 to work for meaningful change in South Africa.
His thinking relied on an old idea: if you want to change the world, change the way people think about it. So, in apartheid South Africa, it was necessary – no, essential – to change the way that whites thought about their future under apartheid. In order to do so, however, he needed an organisation.
Several days after Van Zyl Slabbert left parliament, another opposition MP, Alex Boraine – who would of course eventually become the deputy chair of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) – resigned his seat.
If Van Zyl Slabbert’s genius was the conceptualisation of an idea, and to brilliantly articulate it, Boraine was an organiser of note: operating in harness, they were to be a formidable team.
An early task was to set up offices across the country and to appoint staff who shared their vision and passion, and who were willing to take the not inconsiderable risks of talking about change in the face of the apartheid state’s obsession with security.
And so it was, in the latter part of 1986, that a branch of Idasa was established in East London.
It was directed by two South Africans of very different backgrounds but who, interestingly, were of an age. One of these was Steve Fourie, who was the pastor of the Nahoon Methodist Church. Educated in the once-famous theology faculty at Rhodes University, Fourie had worked with Boraine through the Methodist Church.
It was to be a difficult move for Fourie, this new calling: for some months he combined his pastoral responsibilities in Nahoon with his co-directorship of Idasa’s East London office. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, his “flock” were a little suspicious not only of his dual life, but also of his newly-found passion for change. Was this “political”, they worried?
The other Idasa director was Eric Mntonga, whose working life as a factory worker has drawn him into the South African Allied Worker’s Union.
He was a man of considered ways who was slow to anger; these traits and his opposition to apartheid, led to leadership in several fields, too. One of these leadership positions was on the Committee of Ten, an organisation that was established to deal with an ongoing bus boycott.
Mntonga was its chair. He was also a member of the ANC which, of course, had to be hidden from the authorities.
Working together, Mntonga and Fourie began pushing for change on several fronts in East London.
Much of these were innocent – like talking to business people, and showing videos on the importance of change in the public library.
They were assisted by several enthusiastic supporters, the redoubtable Terry Bryceland, the general manager of the Daily Dispatch, was one such.
But these green shoots would tragically end one Saturday in July 1987, when Mntonga was taken to the Mdantsane police station for questioning. That afternoon he was murdered, after a long and sustained period of torture, by the so-called “elite unit” of the Ciskeian security forces.
Although the homeland authorities tried to cover up the murder – the findings of a quick “informal inquest” in to the killing were overturned, several months later, by a judicial inquiry presided over by Judge Benjamin de Villiers Pickard, who was then the chief justice of the Ciskei.
On a cold August day, Eric Mntonga was buried in Mdantsane.
I remember the day as if it was yesterday: the deep melodious hymns and the open coffin were surrounded by the banners of unions, the United Democratic Front and, of course, the ANC. The anthems of liberation were sung as they often were during that time, South Africa’s age of political funerals.
By that time, however, the national dynamics around Idasa had changed. It had gone global! This was the result of a famous meeting that Idasa had organised in Dakar, Senegal, between a group of white South Africans – mainly Afrikaners – and the exiled ANC.
As a result, the tenor of the relationship between the apartheid state and Idasa changed. For all the blustering over the Dakar visit in the very parliament that Van Zyl Slabbert had quit 18 months before, the organisation – and its message – was protected by international opinion.
Mntonga’s funeral marked the beginning of the end of Fourie’s sojourn as Idasa’s co-director in East London. But, before he moved, the South African security police were determined to give him and Idasa a rough ride.
In a telephone interview last week, Fourie, who has been the registrar of Rhodes University for the past 18 years, told me that on an outing with his family one day shortly after Mntonga’s murder, the security police threatened the lives of his young children.
Looking back on these events today, Idasa’s press for change seems to have been such an obvious – even innocent – exercise. But Eric Mntonga’s tragic death suggests the risk in their approach those long years ago.
Peter Vale is professor of humanities at the University of Johannesburg. He served on the national board of Idasa from 1986 till 1996. His second article on Idasa will appear tomorrow
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