South Africa: Botha Talks, World Waits : Hopes Tied to Less Violence

President Pieter W. Botha appears to have regained political initiative in South Africa. His speech last week promised specific reforms and set conditions for what now seems to be the imminent release of Nelson Mandela, the jailed black leader. Botha has not, however, charted a clear course for the future nor begun to bridge the chasm that separates white from black in his troubled country.

Botha’s speech was as conciliatory as his previous major address last August had been belligerent. He talked about an undivided South Africa with a single citizenship for all South Africans; equal education for all races; scrapping the hated pass laws that inhibit black migration; freehold rights for blacks; involving all groups at the provincial (secondary) level of government, and a new “national statutory council” where white and black leaders would “consider and advise on matters of common concern.”

Looking ahead, Botha stressed that the political aspirations of all South Africans must be accommodated in a democratic government: “We have outgrown the colonial system of paternalism as well as the outdated concept of apartheid.”

In a follow-up, two-page advertisement in the Sunday newspapers, Botha elaborated on his speech in punchier language. And he broadcast his message on South Africa’s segregated black radio and television networks, appealing for cooperation.

The pass laws would be scrapped by July 1, 1986; thereafter, all South Africans would carry the same identity document. The proposed national statutory council would not just be a “forum for talkers” but the first step toward “institutionalized power-sharing where black leaders can have a voice in central government.”

Finally, using a curious rhetorical device, Botha eased his terms for the release of Mandela, leader of the banned African National Congress (ANC), who has been in jail for 23 years. Botha had made Mandela’s release conditional on the latter’s rejection of violence; his latest speech, however, made “humanitarian grounds” the criterion, linking Mandela’s case with the release of two Soviet dissidents and a South African military officer held by Angola.

Now, the Soviets have scheduled the release of one of the dissidents, Anatoly Shcharansky, for next week; and by Friday, Mandela’s family and supporters were already expecting official word of his freedom.

How does Botha’s package affect the internal crisis and South Africa’s increasingly isolated position in the world?

First, it is important to understand that two realities exist in South Africa. Changes that seem major, even apocalyptic, to whites, appear minor, even absurd, to blacks. During 18 months of black revolt and external pressures, white concessions and black expectations--never correlated--are now wholly out of sync.

Second, there is the government’s direction (strategy is too grandiose a term). When Botha talks about a unified, democratic South Africa accommodating the aspirations of all South Africans with a common citizenship, he is not speaking about one person, one vote in a unitary system. And when he stresses equal education and other rights for blacks, he still does not intend to integrate South Africa’s schools, hospitals and residential areas.

Botha’s speech is full of the key code words that indicate white control will be maintained through some form of loose federal system. While blacks will have an increasing say in their “own” (i.e., local) affairs, whites will retain ultimate control over “general” (i.e., national) affairs.

The word communities rather than individuals occurs time and again in government rhetoric. Power is to be shared between communities, without one group dominating the other. The concept that South Africa is a nation of “minorities,” the same idea that underpinned apartheid and the tribally based homelands, is as much a part of government philosophy as it ever was--meaning there is not and can never be a black majority in power.

Reaction has been building. Thursday, Botha publicly reprimanded his foreign minister, Roelof F. (Pik) Botha, for having remarked that a black might one day become president of South Africa. White reformers remained dissatisfied, and on Friday opposition leader Frederik van Zyl Slabbert resigned from parliament.

Zulu leader Chief Mangosuthu Gatsha Buthelezi once flatly rejected the government’s attempt to participate in a joint consultative body. But now he has been saying that he would have no problem with the new council if there were a flexible agenda--leaving himself a loophole for a quick escape. Buthelezi has become increasingly isolated from the ANC and other black nationalist movements and seems keen to find a way of consolidating his power by creating some form of federal entity between his fragmented, impoverished Kwazulu homeland and neighboring Natal Province. The government, for its part, seems eager to drive a broader wedge between its black opponents by wooing Buthelezi.

Other black leaders, including Bishop Desmond Tutu, have condemned the reforms as neither new nor significant. So have the ANC and the smaller black consciousness movement, Azanian People’s Organization. This is where the other reality of South Africa--the black reality--comes into play. With more than 1,000 dead in the last 18 months, amid constant upheaval and great suffering, black aspirations have taken a quantum leap forward.

While many older, moderate blacks may give Botha marks for honesty, courage and persistence, the people who wield power in the black communities (the youth, the reformist United Democratic Front, the ANC, AZAPO) have majority rule--and all that it implies--as their agenda.

For the government, backed by the great majority of the white electorate, majority rule is suicide. And while Botha clearly wants to release Mandela, he appears to have no intention of negotiating with the ANC. His principal goal is to draw as many moderate black leaders into a dialogue as possible. His dilemma is how to build dialogue while also curbing black township violence in an ascending spiral of turmoil and repression.

Where does this leave South Africa internationally?

Foreign pressure has mounted dramatically in recent months. The declaration of a state of emergency last July, the disappointment following Botha’s speech in August and the continued violence have softened Western reluctance to impose sanctions against South Africa.

The United States, under pressure from Congress, contradicted its policy of constructive engagement and chastised Pretoria with some mild measures. Foreign banks, in a much more menacing move, refused to roll over $13-billion worth of short-term loans. Big business in South Africa itself, once enamored of the Botha government, began to advocate full political rights for blacks and an end to segregation.

South African businessmen, opposition politicians, churchmen and others began to trek to Lusaka, the Zambian capital, to talk to the exiled ANC leadership. The European Economic Community, in an attempt to rationalize its own position on South Africa, has also had meetings with the ANC and the African front-line states in Zambia.

The Reagan Administration, in an atmosphere of blossoming unreality, continues to stroll its constructive engagement path by cautiously welcoming most declarations of good intent that come out of Pretoria. But with anti-apartheid domestic pressures showing no signs of diminishing and the Administration’s leverage with the South African government--never very great--declining, there doesn’t seem much Washington can do, except watch and wait. Washington is not alone. Most of the main actors in South Africa’s drama also appear to be watching and waiting. Botha’s government is waiting to see what effects its policy will have on blacks within the country and on foreign investors, particularly the bankers, outside. The bankers and Western governments are watching to see what actions follow Botha’s speech. And everyone wonders how long the violence will continue.

This is the most critical factor. If the black townships continue to boil and if the violence spreads--as the ANC has promised--to white areas, Botha’s reform package will unravel sooner rather than later. The bankers will turn their backs and South Africa will become more isolated.

If, however, violence subsides, then the measured and limited pace of Botha’s reforms will take place and even the world’s bankers might decide to lend optimism by rolling over loans.