the negotiators and all those countrywide who sought peace, the realisation had dawned that the situation was unbearable and that the political violence simply had to be brought under control as a matter of urgency. Finally, in September 1991, after months of lengthy deliberations, representatives from almost thirty political parties and organisations, trade unions and non-profit organisations agreed on a comprehensive and binding National Peace Accord (NPA). Its aim was to restrict public violence and intimidation by means of codes of conduct, procedures and mechanisms so that all South Africans could participate freely in political processes. At the same time, it had to help maintain a stable social order that was minimally disruptive of the negotiations.
In an attempt to create stability and consolidate the peace process, positive measures were launched to combat the worst effects of political violence at local level. Various mechanisms were put in place. The accord included a code of conduct for all political parties to follow in terms of which, among other things, they were obliged to contribute to the creation of a ‘climate of democratic tolerance’. Everyone undertook to condemn political violence publicly and repeatedly.
Furthermore, parties could not intimidate anyone on the basis of their political convictions, threaten or do harm to them and, in general terms, would promote freedom of political expression. Everyone undertook to work with the police to investigate incidents of unrest and apprehend offenders.
Alas, the accord did not restrain all incitement to violence. The ANC leadership was the ringleader in defiantly and flagrantly breaking the ethos and conciliatory spirit of the accord. The negotiation process had reached a point of no return early on, and the ANC could afford to let its revolutionary petticoat show.
On an overseas visit in May 1992, speaking in Helsinki, Mandela claimed that De Klerk was complicit in violence in which ‘more than a thousand people’ in South Africa had died. A few days later, in Geneva, he compared the government’s steps to maintain law and order with the Nazis’ genocide of the Jews in the Second World War.4
This was extremely irresponsible of Mandela who was, no doubt, trying to gain lost prestige among the radicals after the ANC’s concession on the suspension of violence.
Other statements were even more reckless. In Zwide, outside Port Elizabeth, notorious firebrand Harry Gwala declared on 16 June 1992: ‘Codesa or no Codesa, we have come here to take power from the hands of the Fascist Boers. If our freedom depends on blood-shedding, so be it.’5
In terms of the peace accord, it was agreed that the committee formed in compliance with the Prevention of Public Violence and Intimidation Act of 1991 would investigate the background of, and reasons for, the violence. Various ‘instruments of peace’ were also set up at local and regional level to prevent violence and intimidation. The committee’s work was co-ordinated countrywide by the National Peace Secretariat under Judge Antonie Gildenhuys, which began to function on 4 November 1992.
The ANC named heavyweights Tokyo Sexwale and Jayendra Naidoo as its representatives in the secretariat; the NP’s Chris Fismer and Johan Steenkamp simply didn’t have the same clout. Luckily, a senior Constitutional Development official, Deon Rudman (previously of the Department of Justice) also served in the secretariat.
Before long, the question of the ANC’s reliance on MK also raised its head. ANC top brass announced that the peace accord was subordinate to the DF Malan Accord, which meant that MK and its activities were not bound by peace accord restrictions. Mandela supported this obvious ploy, which came down to the fact that the ANC was entitled to keep its private ‘army’ – but that other signatories of the accord were not.
Did Inkatha’s ‘cultural weapons’, such as assegais and knobkieries (handmade clubs), represent a greater threat to peace than MK’s AK-47s and limpet mines? Buthelezi’s utter frustration with the situation was understandable, particularly in the light of the ANC’s argument that it was not a political party but a liberation movement.
The government’s participation in the accord was uninspiring, to put it mildly. While the ANC was, on occasion, represented by heavyweights such as Thabo Mbeki, Aziz and Essop Pahad, and Sydney Mufamadi; Cosatu by Sam Shilowa; and the IFP by Frank Mdlalose, the government’s Hernus Kriel, Johan Scheepers, Renier Schoeman and Jac Rabie were often absent.
On one occasion, Mdlalose expressed his ‘bitter disappointment’ in the government’s apparent apathy and the way in which the ANC took advantage of this. As he put it: ‘These chaps are getting away with murder on a daily basis and the government does not seem interested.’6
To counteract the government and NP’s poor showing, the Civil Servants’ Committee made several suggestions, including that the Policy Group for Negotiation and the Core Group for Negotiation take the lead actively and that the deputy minister of law and order, Johan Scheepers, manage the matter innovatively. But our suggestions fell largely on deaf ears. De Klerk’s refusal to allow ministers to become fully involved in the negotiations also cost the government dearly.
In his chairman’s report on 4 November 1994, Gildenhuys declared that the peace accord had made a meaningful contribution to peace and stability, but that the accord could never guarantee peace in South Africa. The prevalence of political assassinations, taxi violence, violence on trains, hostel anarchy, necklace murders, consumer boycotts and gang violence was simply too extensive and unpredictable. He concluded: ‘Violence that took place covertly in the past is now being perpetrated openly. It is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to put an end to such violence. It would take a change of heart from all political groups involved in the violence.’
The peace accord was a praiseworthy mechanism that met with limited success. This does not detract from the fact that it was an innovative attempt to achieve stability in the country by contractual means and concerted management mechanisms. At the very least, it represented the desire for a negotiated agreement that boisterous radicals could not derail.
1 Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Volume 2, ‘Political Violence in the Era of Negotiations and Transition, 1990–1994’, pp. 583–710.
2 JV van der Merwe, Submission to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, 21 October 1996.
3 Statement made after an emergency meeting of the National Executive Committee of the ANC, 23 June 1992.
4 The Citizen, 23 May 1992 and 25 May 1992.
5 ‘Bloodletting if necessary, says Gwala’, EP Herald, 17 June 1992.
6 Remarks by Frank Mdlalose at a meeting of the National Peace Committee, 26 May 1992.
Chapter 7
Russian interlude
One evening, in the summer of 1991, I found myself in the northern hemisphere, in Moscow, at a performance of the world-renowned Moscow circus – as a guest in the box of the KGB, at that stage certainly the most feared spy service in the world. Fact is indeed sometimes stranger than fiction; in the world of spies, even stranger things sometimes happen.
With me at the circus was Mike Kuhn, a valued colleague from NI. We watched in amazement the horsemanship of the riders in the small arena, especially the men from Mongolia who looked as if they had been born in the saddle. Our host, one Artemov, was called away for an urgent telephone call and returned with a somewhat grim expression, but offered no explanation. Naturally, we did not ask what was amiss; spies don’t share