parties expressed serious concern about the escalation of politically motivated violence in Natal and there was general agreement that, in the search for peace and stability, all communities should be made to understand that problems could and would be solved by the negotiation process. Additional channels of communication between the different and opposing parties would be set up at local, regional and national level. In the light of ‘the new circumstances that were developing’, security legislation would be reviewed and amended continually, including the possible lifting of the state of emergency in Natal.
The minute pronounced: ‘We are convinced that the agreements we have reached can become a milestone on the road to lasting peace and prosperity in our country.’
The government and the ANC also declared that they did not profess to be the only parties in the country involved in the process of creating a new South Africa. ‘The path ahead is now open to move forward in the direction of negotiations for a new constitution.’
While the Pretoria Minute was being formulated and written, something else took place that was destined to have a huge effect on the settlement process and subsequent public life.
Thabo Mbeki and Joe Slovo of the ANC were delegated to help draw up the minute, while Fanie van der Merwe and I were chosen to represent the government in this process. Without further ado, we adjourned to the snooker room of the Old Presidency. Between heavy draws on our cigarettes, Fanie wrote down the gist of the negotiation in his scratchy handwriting, while we all argued back and forth and helped with the formulation.
The question of amnesty for all those who had been involved in acts of political violence was part of the discussion during the ‘summit’, after which, with an eye to reaching consensus and formulation, the matter was referred to us as a working committee of four members.
We held an in-depth discussion and convinced one another that it was imperative that we closed the book on the past. This implied granting general amnesty to everyone, on both sides of the proverbial divide. We were convinced that digging up old bones about the violence and terror of the past would get us nowhere.
It was not difficult to discern that Mbeki and Slovo regarded this as a quid pro quo to appease ANC radicals for the concession MK had made to suspend the armed struggle. We were very excited about what we regarded as a breakthrough and agreed that we would present it as a proposal to our respective superiors.
At that very stage, ministers Kobie Coetsee and Gerrit Viljoen made their appearance in the snooker room to see what progress we had made and, presumably, also to check whether we two officials had not sold the government down the river.
Coetsee immediately declared himself categorically opposed to a general amnesty. Fanie and I quietly took him aside. An intense debate followed, during which we tried to persuade him of the merits of an amnesty for everyone. We made the point that, if we missed this opportunity, a protracted witch-hunt could follow that would deal the security forces a blow and drive MK even further underground.
But Coetsee remained as stubborn as a mule. Soon afterwards, in a penetrating discussion with De Klerk, Fanie and I did our utmost to persuade him of the unintended and disastrous consequences of selective amnesty, but he could not, or would not, see our point of view either.
Coetsee presumably thought that, by allowing a general amnesty, the chance would be lost to throw the book at the ANC for its human rights abuses. In the end, this attitude boomeranged tragically. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) was established and, during its hearings, it was the sins of the security forces, for the most part, that were teased out month after month and broadcast amid much publicity. Coetsee was conspicuous by his absence at the TRC hearings, where he could have given a full exposition of his brave views.
At the news conference the day after the signing of the Pretoria Minute, the first signs of tension between Mandela and De Klerk began to show. It was patently obvious to me in the body language of both men and linked, presumably, to the ANC’s difficulty in selling the idea of the suspension of violence to all its followers – many of the comrades regarded this as an act of surrender. Protest action had broken out everywhere; on a countrywide roadshow, Mandela and his lieutenants had their work cut out to explain the reasons behind the decision to supporters at grassroots level.
In accordance with the Pretoria agreement, a working group comprising members of the government and the ANC met several times to reflect on the implications of the suspension decision. In September 1990, a provisional report was issued and, on 12 February 1991, the final report appeared, becoming known as the DF Malan Accord.
In terms of this, it was agreed that various initiatives linked to struggle violence would be suspended, from armed attacks and the secret stockpiling of arms to expressions that incited violence. In principle, it was also agreed that, in a democratic society, no political party or organisation should have a private army. It was noted that the ANC, ‘in good faith and as a contribution to the process with an eye to a peaceful settlement’, had halted all armed and allied activities ‘on the supposition that the process will lead to a situation where there will be no return to armed activity’.
In compliance with the accord, it was of great importance that control be exercised over cadres and weapons that had been brought into the country earlier. Public demonstrations would still be allowed, but ‘mass action’ could not be accompanied by violence and intimidation. It was also agreed that the security forces and the ANC would both make a concerted effort to curb conflict situations and that the working committee would monitor adherence to the agreement.6
This was a praiseworthy attempt to address the issue of violence and to keep the peace process on track, but, in practice, the agreement was not enforced.
In the spring of 1990, I was privileged to be part of the first official visit by a South African head of state to the United States of America – at the time, the world’s only superpower. This was also President De Klerk’s first overseas visit since the release of Nelson Mandela more than six months earlier.
From 23 to 25 September, De Klerk, Pik Botha (the minister of foreign affairs) and a South African team visited Washington. The Americans rolled out the red carpet from the moment SAA’s Hantam landed at the Andrews Air Force Base outside Washington. We were then flown by helicopter to the reflecting pool beside the memorial obelisk in the Mall. It was an extremely hospitable gesture on the part of the Americans to accommodate us in the well-known Blair House.
As Neil van Heerden, director general of foreign affairs, liked to say: ‘We no longer had to loiter at the back entrance wringing our hands. We could walk proudly through the front entrance into the world’s diplomatic boardrooms.’
The high point of the visit was De Klerk’s appointment with President George HW Bush in the Oval Office the next morning. Afterwards, the delegations from both countries held a highly constructive work session in the Cabinet Room of the White House.
De Klerk was in his element. In his clear and logical manner, he explained our intentions as far as the settlement negotiations in South Africa were concerned, placing emphasis on the guarantees, the ‘checks and balances’ of a constitutional state, and the protection of minority rights. Apparently, the Americans found it difficult to see the need for such stipulations. Today, they probably understand it far better; it was only in 2014 that Washington became aware of the global challenges of migration and minorities.
That afternoon, De Klerk and Pik Botha met James Baker, the seasoned US secretary of state. This also developed into a constructive discussion. Baker saw South Africa as a platform for American influence in Africa and was of the view that the old regime’s years of experience in government would be invaluable to the new South Africa.
At a wide variety of events, De Klerk addressed the American media, members of Congress and business leaders. As an excellent speaker, he acquitted himself well; unlike his predecessor, PW Botha, he understood and had mastered the art of public speaking on the international stage. President Bush’s generous statements about South Africa to the media and his positive comments about events in the country riled the black caucus so much that it took