The tainted legacy of apartheid’s former president FW de Klerk was up for discussion again following the city of Cape Town’s decision to honour him by renaming Table Bay Boulevard after him.
There is no doubt that De Klerk showed courage, leadership and insight when he led the National Party – and most of white South Africa – along the path out of the political morass created by successive NP regimes.
Whatever his motives – and many have speculated about these – I acknowledge De Klerk for his role in the transition to democracy.
But that does not mean we should easily forget South Africa’s inglorious past, or De Klerk’s role as a committed member of a white minority government that disenfranchised, separated, removed, relocated and killed.
Given the predominant Christian ethos which underpinned South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission – understandably influenced by the leadership of Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu – it is perhaps ironic that De Klerk has seen it fit to be selective when it comes to the need for penitence and confession.
In terms of Judaeo-Christian understandings of God, the act of penitence is a fundamental precursor to communion with God and with one’s fellows. The Old Testament reflects a supposed desire of God to heal us if we repent.
“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14).
This approach had a strong resonance with the penitential church of the late apartheid era. The National Initiative for Reconciliation, formed by church leaders including Tutu in Pietermaritzburg in the 1980s, was forged “in humility and repentance” according to Methodist theologian Daryl Balla.
The sense of communion – or reconciliation – so essential to moving the country to a place where a different, nonracial and democratic South Africa could be imagined – could not occur without confession of past – and, perhaps, continuing – sins.
These elements were incorporated into the work of the TRC, which remains widely acknowledged internationally as a benchmark for societies transitioning from historical epochs of injustice or oppression, even as questions remain among South Africans about the efficacy of the TRC in resolving the brokenness wrought in our society by apartheid.
While affirming his “Dopper” Christian roots, De Klerk has eschewed the confessional idea of the TRC, showing no predilection for a full apology for apartheid, even as he has adamantly repeated that he has apologised for apartheid.
In an interview after the 1992 whites-only referendum which resulted in a landslide vote in favour of reform, he said that while he apologised for the hurt, apartheid remained a sound political doctrine – albeit, he conceded, that it was unworkable in South Africa.
The appeal to a moral righteousness of apartheid underpins its latter-day political justification.
This ignores the impact on disenfranchised black South Africans; the consequence of brutal enforcement of laws necessary to maintain separate development; the impoverishment of people in Bantustans; the detention and torture of activists; the killings at home and abroad of South Africans and empathetic foreigners; and the effects on families torn apart by forced removals, migrant labour and Immorality Act convictions.
In a TRC special hearing in 1997, De Klerk appeared to acknowledge such critique, apologising and accepting full responsibility for apartheid’s “unconventional projects” and the harm caused to millions of South Africans.
But he equivocated nonetheless as he expressed shock at the revelations of atrocities committed in the name of his government.
More recently, De Klerk responded to CNN’s Christiane Amanpour that he had made “the most profound apology” before the TRC for the injustices “wrought by apartheid” but that he had not apologised for “the original concept” of separate development. That concept was “not repugnant” but failed because the “territorial division” between white and black areas was “manifestly unfair”.
The racial arrogance inherent in these responses is as stupefying as the revisionist approach to our history – the idea that the colonial conquerors were entitled to carve up the country and allocate a portion to indigenous people but they simply got the maths wrong.
Ryan Fehr and Michelle Gelfand have written that “as a method of conflict resolution, apologies have perhaps never been as popular as they are today”. But they warn that all apologies are not created equal, adding that “the content of an apology should influence how effective it is, and who it is most effective for”.
Apology expert Aaron Lazare of the University of Massachusetts Medical School has written that for an apology to be valid, the offender must clearly and completely acknowledge the offence, provide an assurance the offence was not intentional and unlikely to recur, express remorse and humility, and offer real or symbolic compensation.
An analysis of De Klerk’s often-enough repeated apology for apartheid shows none of these markers.
On the contrary, as Stanford University’s Karina Schumann (2014) has shown, transgressors like De Klerk avoid comprehensive expressions of mea culpa, preferring instead “more perfunctory apologies or even defensive strategies” that include justification for their offensive behaviour.
De Klerk is not alone and the issues raised in an appraisal of his apology for apartheid have implications beyond a presumed fixation with our apartheid history. Indeed how they relate to the present is underscored by President Jacob Zuma, who has been known to make the occasional apology or, increasingly, has chosen to plead ignorance when wrong is done in his name.
We heard an apology – after a public outcry – from the speaker of parliament, Baleka Mbete, after she suggested Julius Malema was a cockroach.
Remorse has also emanated from some quarters of Eskom – although not the political head. Nelson Mandela’s PA Zelda le Grange also recently apologised for a tweet.
But while acknowledging wrongdoing is vital, the process of true reconciliation is a process that requires deep and sincere reflection.
And reconciliation matters today because of the enduring separateness in our society and the spectacular failure of the state – and faith groups among civil society sectors – to offer an alternative vision of an equal, nonracial, conciliatory community. Introspection which allows us to heed the mistakes made by De Klerk may well offer future generations a different legacy.
Ray Hartle is a senior writer for the Daily Dispatch — rayh@dispatch.co.za
FW acknowledging full failure may change future
There is no doubt that De Klerk showed courage, leadership and insight when he led the National Party – and most of white South Africa – along the path out of the political morass created by successive NP regimes.
Whatever his motives – and many have speculated about these – I acknowledge De Klerk for his role in the transition to democracy.
But that does not mean we should easily forget South Africa’s inglorious past, or De Klerk’s role as a committed member of a white minority government that disenfranchised, separated, removed, relocated and killed.
Given the predominant Christian ethos which underpinned South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission – understandably influenced by the leadership of Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu – it is perhaps ironic that De Klerk has seen it fit to be selective when it comes to the need for penitence and confession.
In terms of Judaeo-Christian understandings of God, the act of penitence is a fundamental precursor to communion with God and with one’s fellows. The Old Testament reflects a supposed desire of God to heal us if we repent.
“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14).
This approach had a strong resonance with the penitential church of the late apartheid era. The National Initiative for Reconciliation, formed by church leaders including Tutu in Pietermaritzburg in the 1980s, was forged “in humility and repentance” according to Methodist theologian Daryl Balla.
The sense of communion – or reconciliation – so essential to moving the country to a place where a different, nonracial and democratic South Africa could be imagined – could not occur without confession of past – and, perhaps, continuing – sins.
These elements were incorporated into the work of the TRC, which remains widely acknowledged internationally as a benchmark for societies transitioning from historical epochs of injustice or oppression, even as questions remain among South Africans about the efficacy of the TRC in resolving the brokenness wrought in our society by apartheid.
While affirming his “Dopper” Christian roots, De Klerk has eschewed the confessional idea of the TRC, showing no predilection for a full apology for apartheid, even as he has adamantly repeated that he has apologised for apartheid.
In an interview after the 1992 whites-only referendum which resulted in a landslide vote in favour of reform, he said that while he apologised for the hurt, apartheid remained a sound political doctrine – albeit, he conceded, that it was unworkable in South Africa.
The appeal to a moral righteousness of apartheid underpins its latter-day political justification.
This ignores the impact on disenfranchised black South Africans; the consequence of brutal enforcement of laws necessary to maintain separate development; the impoverishment of people in Bantustans; the detention and torture of activists; the killings at home and abroad of South Africans and empathetic foreigners; and the effects on families torn apart by forced removals, migrant labour and Immorality Act convictions.
In a TRC special hearing in 1997, De Klerk appeared to acknowledge such critique, apologising and accepting full responsibility for apartheid’s “unconventional projects” and the harm caused to millions of South Africans.
But he equivocated nonetheless as he expressed shock at the revelations of atrocities committed in the name of his government.
More recently, De Klerk responded to CNN’s Christiane Amanpour that he had made “the most profound apology” before the TRC for the injustices “wrought by apartheid” but that he had not apologised for “the original concept” of separate development. That concept was “not repugnant” but failed because the “territorial division” between white and black areas was “manifestly unfair”.
The racial arrogance inherent in these responses is as stupefying as the revisionist approach to our history – the idea that the colonial conquerors were entitled to carve up the country and allocate a portion to indigenous people but they simply got the maths wrong.
Ryan Fehr and Michelle Gelfand have written that “as a method of conflict resolution, apologies have perhaps never been as popular as they are today”. But they warn that all apologies are not created equal, adding that “the content of an apology should influence how effective it is, and who it is most effective for”.
Apology expert Aaron Lazare of the University of Massachusetts Medical School has written that for an apology to be valid, the offender must clearly and completely acknowledge the offence, provide an assurance the offence was not intentional and unlikely to recur, express remorse and humility, and offer real or symbolic compensation.
An analysis of De Klerk’s often-enough repeated apology for apartheid shows none of these markers.
On the contrary, as Stanford University’s Karina Schumann (2014) has shown, transgressors like De Klerk avoid comprehensive expressions of mea culpa, preferring instead “more perfunctory apologies or even defensive strategies” that include justification for their offensive behaviour.
De Klerk is not alone and the issues raised in an appraisal of his apology for apartheid have implications beyond a presumed fixation with our apartheid history. Indeed how they relate to the present is underscored by President Jacob Zuma, who has been known to make the occasional apology or, increasingly, has chosen to plead ignorance when wrong is done in his name.
We heard an apology – after a public outcry – from the speaker of parliament, Baleka Mbete, after she suggested Julius Malema was a cockroach.
Remorse has also emanated from some quarters of Eskom – although not the political head. Nelson Mandela’s PA Zelda le Grange also recently apologised for a tweet.
But while acknowledging wrongdoing is vital, the process of true reconciliation is a process that requires deep and sincere reflection.
And reconciliation matters today because of the enduring separateness in our society and the spectacular failure of the state – and faith groups among civil society sectors – to offer an alternative vision of an equal, nonracial, conciliatory community. Introspection which allows us to heed the mistakes made by De Klerk may well offer future generations a different legacy.
Ray Hartle is a senior writer for the Daily Dispatch — rayh@dispatch.co.za
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