S. Africans Apply Christianity : 4 White Brothers Spark Anti-Apartheid Struggle

The four Watson brothers can see the revolution coming in South Africa, and they are determined to be on the winning side--that of the blacks.

At a time when most other liberal whites speak only of their vague hope that a multiracial democracy will somehow develop from South Africa’s current turmoil, the Watsons declare plainly their commitment to majority rule and all it would bring in a country where blacks outnumber whites five to one.

“If it takes a revolution to end apartheid, and it looks like it may, then I say, ‘Let the revolution come,’ because I doubt very strongly that piecemeal reforms will end it,” says Gavin Watson, 37, the oldest of the controversial brothers.

“And if it comes to a revolution, then there is no doubt where we will stand--with the people against this corrupt, unjust and immoral system of apartheid, against racial discrimination and against minority rule and white privilege--because that is where we stand now.”

Organizing Blacks

These are not just words. The Watsons--Gavin and his brothers Ron, 36, Valence, 34, and Dan, 30--are activists, helping organize the black communities around Port Elizabeth and other cities and towns in South Africa’s eastern Cape province, assisting the underground black leadership with transportation and communication, and evangelizing other whites on the need to come to terms quickly with blacks if greater bloodshed is to be averted.

This activism, skirting close to violation of South Africa’s severe security laws, sets the Watsons apart from most other liberal whites, who keep their opposition to apartheid within clearly legal limits and do not wholly identify the blacks’ struggle as their own, as the four brothers now have.

“When I say ‘we,’ ” Valence said during an interview, “I mean blacks, not us Watsons, not whites. We don’t think in terms of ‘we whites’ and ‘those blacks’ but in terms of ‘we the people’--and most of the people are, of course, black.”

Gavin and Valence Watson talk of the strategy sessions they have held with local black leaders on the continuing black consumer boycott of white stores here, of the activists they have sheltered from possible police detention, of the assistance--nearly $5,000 last month alone--they have given the families of those detained by the government under the state of emergency here, and of the resulting harassment by authorities they endure.

The ‘Coming Revolution’

Ron Watson unhesitatingly identifies himself and his brothers with the outlawed African National Congress, something few whites or blacks, however radical, will do publicly for fear they might be jailed for furthering the aims of a banned organization. “When the ANC is in power,” he said with seeming confidence that this will be the almost inevitable result of the “coming revolution.” The phrase, from a white South African, is startling.

“A growing number of whites, mostly at the liberal universities but some in business and the community at large, now recognize the African National Congress as the legal government of South Africa in exile,” Ron Watson continued. “But they can’t speak out or carry ANC membership cards because it could mean 5 to 10 years in prison. . . . We are willing to take that chance to win others to the struggle.”

The brothers make speech after speech to businessmen, sportsmen, churches and other organizations, not just calling for an end to apartheid but spelling out strategies and tactics to bring it down. One goal is to win acceptance of the African National Congress, persuading whites that it is not a terrorist organization, that it is not communist-dominated, although it has communists in its top ranks, and that whites would have a place in the non-racial society it proposes.

Seen as ‘Traitors’

“Other whites are afraid of us,” Gavin Watson said. “They see us as radicals, as traitors to our own people, as dangerous revolutionaries. They are frightened by the changes that are coming when, we think, they should welcome them and promote them. When we say things like that, they look at us like we are bomb throwers.”

Although “the struggle,” as it is called, is taking more and more of the Watsons’ time, energy and money, they are, in fact, unlikely revolutionaries

The four brothers own and manage a small but successful chain of men’s clothing stores in Port Elizabeth and nearby Uitenhage.

They come from a famous South African rugby football family--all four played the game, which is close to a religion here--and graduated from a prestigious school. They are descended from British immigrants and thus do not belong to the politically dominant Afrikaner group, made up of the descendants of German, Dutch and French settlers.

Fundamentalist Christians

They describe themselves as “committed Christians,” members of the fundamentalist Assembly of God denomination, which emphasizes personal salvation rather than the transformation of society as the first duty of Christians.

And the Watsons frankly acknowledge that they probably would be more at home coaching a rugby team or attending a chamber of commerce luncheon than meeting clandestinely with local black leaders.

But it was rugby, business, language and, most of all, religion that turned the Watsons into anti-apartheid activists.

In 1976, the youngest brother, Dan, known countrywide as “Cheeky” and a rising rugby star as a fast-running wing, defied South African sports authorities to play with blacks. For refusing to end his involvement in the black community, he was excluded from the national rugby team that toured France, and he and his brothers--who all played a high level of rugby on the provincial level--were barred for life by the white rugby union.

“The more we became involved with blacks, the more plainly we could see how desperate their situation was under apartheid,” Valence Watson said. “From that, our commitment to change grew stronger and stronger. . . .

Whites Called Isolated

“Many, many more whites would not only oppose apartheid but work actively to overthrow it if they were not so tightly cocooned in their artificial little worlds. One of the things that keeps apartheid alive and vigorous is its success at isolating whites from the rest of the people of this country. If more whites really knew what apartheid did to people, they would be fighting it too.”

Their clothing stores, which have a large black clientele, brought them into even closer contact with black leaders who sought their support for community projects. In addition, all four have spoken Xhosa, the predominant black language here, since boyhood, and that made communication all the more natural.

“Whatever we make in this business, we feel should be plowed back into our community,” Gavin Watson said. “Certainly, we are capitalists and firm believers in the free-market system, which has been very good to our family. We sell clothes at a profit, we try to expand our business and we definitely try to make money. But as businessmen we know we have social responsibilities, just as Christians we have moral responsibilities.”

Their fundamental motivation, the brothers say, is religious. “We are Christians,” Gavin Watson said. “We believe in the word of God, and that means treating your brother as you would treat yourself. We in South Africa are a Christian nation and we believe in the Gospel and commit our lives to Christ Jesus. If that is so, we must accept blacks as our brothers, and we must struggle with them so that they will enjoy equal opportunities with us for a better life.”

Trusted by Blacks

That commitment, demonstrated over nearly a decade, has given the Watsons tremendous standing among blacks in Port Elizabeth and elsewhere in eastern Cape province. Their stores, exempted from the consumer boycotts here, are virtual clearinghouses for black activists. Their advice on organization, strategy and tactics is solicited. And many, fearing detention, trust the Watsons with their lives.

“They are one with us,” a local labor union organizer commented, asking not to be quoted by name. “There is no question about their solidarity with the people. They have subordinated their interests to ours. Their dedication to the revolution is as great as ours. We don’t think of them as whites; we think of them as comrades.”

Such tributes from black militants are rare, for South African blacks find it difficult to believe that any white, however liberal and however dedicated to bringing change, would give up the privileges that apartheid gives him, whether or not he supports the system of racial segregation and minority white rule.

Black activists also tend to see white liberals as trying to direct and manipulate the anti-apartheid struggle to ensure that they will have a major voice in shaping the new society that comes later. The blacks fear that this power will be used to ensure the continuation of white privilege, albeit in a different way.

Shun White-Led Groups

For these reasons, the Watsons have held back from joining white-led anti-apartheid groups. They have turned down invitations to join the white liberal opposition Progressive Federal Party and the new multiracial alliance promoting a convention to draft a new constitution for South Africa. “Our credibility in the black townships is very important, too important to lose on groups that are irrelevant to the process of change,” Gavin Watson said.

The Watsons now are working to become a bridge between Port Elizabeth’s white and black communities. The consumer boycott, Valence Watson says, has “shattered white illusions about being able to go on forever and ever as we had been,” adding that the current unrest should be viewed as “a real opportunity to open a channel of communication . . . and to take the concern and begin to solve our problems.”

What convinced blacks here of the Watsons’ sincerity were the continued sacrifices the brothers made for their ideals and the even greater effort they have put into the struggle as it grew tougher.

“We would not have blamed them if they just stuck to rugby,” a local black journalist commented. “They would have done some good in breaking down the racial barriers in sports. Others might have shared their idealism. Even now, let alone 10 years ago, it is unrealistic to expect more from whites than a fairly narrow idealism. . . .

Struggle Is Costly

“But the Watsons took on our struggle and made it theirs. I know it has cost them a lot, but they are even more determined, more dedicated than before. They have not tried to take the struggle over but have totally integrated themselves into it.”

The brothers’ views on South Africa’s future and on the strategy and tactics needed to end apartheid seem to differ little, in fact, from those of the radical leadership now emerging from the black community after a year of sustained unrest.

They are quite impatient with President Pieter W. Botha’s limited reforms. The government has “more than 10,000 different laws and regulations enforcing apartheid,” Valence Watson commented. “They can scrap two a day and not come to the end of it for years.”

Pressed on whether the time had come for blacks to resort to the “armed struggle” of urban terrorism and guerrilla warfare on a wide scale, Gavin Watson said, “We do say, ‘no arms yet.’ ”

“But this is an issue that needs to be evaluated on a continuing basis,” he added. “We believe there is still time, still room to negotiate--less and less, but definitely still some--and that there is still sufficient good will among blacks and whites for a peaceful resolution of South Africa’s problems.

‘Violence Begets Violence’

“We are also very well aware that violence begets more violence, that it tears the social fabric and that it will leave us a country with more bitterness when we will urgently need good will.

“But I don’t think that I will be saying this if things continue this way for another year, for example, or if the government intensifies its repression. We feel--by we I mean those of us in the struggle--that the time is coming when the armed struggle may well become necessary, that it may be the only way. And I do not say that lightly.”

The Watsons’ prominence in the eastern Cape province and in sports circles nationwide gives them a degree of immunity from prosecution, but their passion for the anti-apartheid struggle imbues them with a certain breathtaking recklessness as well.

Harassment by the security police and white rightists is constant, they say, and precautions against assaults, abductions and false allegations of wrongdoing have long become part of their lives. Gavin pulls up his shirt to show the scars from a knife attack two years ago by a man believed to be a police informer.

Phones Are Tapped

Their phones are tapped, their cars followed, their bank accounts monitored and their homes and stores watched, the Watsons say. Their wives get obscene telephone calls and their children need to be carefully escorted to and from school.

Their suppliers have received letters telling them that the clothing stores were almost bankrupt, they have lost their license to import clothes from abroad and must pay middlemen to do so, and recently anti-riot policemen have positioned themselves at the entrance of their stores to discourage customers on Saturday morning, the busiest sales day of the week.

Many friends who joined them at the beginning or later have quickly dropped away. “The pressure gets to them,” says Ron. “Ostracism is hard to take, and for an Afrikaner to be cut off from his people is a living death. This is not an easy course to follow, but . . . we have been increasingly convinced that what we are doing is right. But I don’t deny the costs are high, the dangers constant.” For Cheeky, the cost was the collapse of his marriage when his wife decided that the pressure on her was too great.

“Of course, all of this is dangerous,” Gavin Watson said. “Even my friends tell me to be quiet, to take it easy, not to come on so strong. But I am a Christian, and as a Christian I must speak out against the injustice of this society, and I must fight against it. There is no choice. There is a moral imperative not just to oppose apartheid but to bring it to an end.”