Botha, Tutu: Both Locked in Positions

On June 13, one day after South Africa’s latest state of emergency was declared, Bishop Desmond Tutu paid a surprise visit to President Pieter W. Botha in Cape Town. Amid storms of protest over the emergency, the visit attracted only passing notice.

But it was one of the few hopeful signs in the pervading gloom. These are the two men holding center stage, whose misperceptions are partly to blame for the gulf between black and white.

Little has been disclosed from their conversation. Tutu said later that they had agreed both were South Africans, Christians and anti-communists--but agreed on little else. Botha told Tutu that his door was always open and “we should talk more.” They should.

One of Botha’s biggest handicaps is that he lacks insight into the thinking of blacks other than those working “within the system.” One of Tutu’s is that he is so obsessed with the need to abolish apartheid totally that he ignores the realities of power and refuses to recognize the progress made so far.

Botha’s bitterness at the lack of recognition given to his reform program has become almost an obsession and has led to angry exchanges with foreign visitors and with friendly governments. He was particularly upset last week by Secretary of State George P. Shultz’s statement to American church leaders that “an immoral system does not serve our interests: It offends our moral principles and we must continue to seek to end it.”

Botha cannot understand why he, who has done more to change South Africa than all his predecessors, should be the target for world hostility. Dr. Hendrik Verwoerd, the arch apostle of apartheid, was treated with greater respect.

The answer probably lies in Alexis de Tocqueville’s maxim that “the most perilous moment for a bad system is when it seeks to mend its ways,” but that is scant comfort for Botha.

At 70, he is believed to be planning for retirement in two years and was hoping to be remembered as the man who bridged the racial gap and eroded the harsh injustices of apartheid, while retaining elements of it as minority safeguards. This limited concept has been rejected by black radicals and white liberals at home, as well as by the world community.

South Africa has lately developed more talent for shooting itself in the foot by disastrous timing. The furor over the emergency almost totally eclipsed one of the most momentous events in the nation’s history--the Parliament’s passage of the Abolition of Influx Control bill.

Helen Suzman had fought against the pass laws for 30 years and is no friend of Botha, but she says the bill is the most important reform the government has made: “The sad fact is that it has received hardly any acknowledgment whatsoever from the millions of black people who could have been expected to welcome it with open arms, nor has it received any attention in the outside world which has long been looking for some positive action from the government for the reform measures it had promised.”

Radical leaders, with Tutu their foremost spokesman, consistently dismiss every reform as too little, too late. Tutu has gone further by openly appealing to Western nations for economic sanctions, arguing that Botha’s government is “on the skids,” that liberation is in sight.

This reflects the mood of the young radicals in the townships as well as the official positions of the African National Congress and the United Democratic Front. The ANC has made it clear it will only talk with the South African government about a transfer of power to the black majority. Meanwhile it refuses to renounce violence, claiming it to be an answer to force by the state and pressing on with its “peoples’ war.” This kind of euphoria led Botha to declare the emergency “to correct the misinterpretation overseas that South Africa is at the point of revolution.” If it is a misinterpretation, it has been spread mainly by Tutu, who has repeatedly said on overseas visits that the nation is on the brink of catastrophe, and that he fears a blood bath, which can only be averted by tough international sanctions. The bishop, to become an archbishop in August, has answered the argument that blacks will suffer most from sanctions by saying that they are suffering now and are willing to continue.

This might be valid if there were a genuine prospect of a change of power in the foreseeable future, but if black suffering, from recession and unemployment, is to last for years it may not prove so acceptable. Sanctions also cause concern among neighboring states that would be the first to feel the economic impact.

The emergency is primarily aimed at restoring government control in black townships, but it has a deeper significance in white politics. It represents a victory for Cabinet hard-liners, including Defence Minister Magnus Malan and Law and Order Minister Louis le Grange, switching the immediate priority from moves toward power-sharing to the need for restoring law and order.

Speculation on how long it will last is frowned on, but government ministers are quietly spreading the word that whatever punitive measures foreign nations may take, the reform process will be gradual.

A front-page editorial in the Johannesburg Sunday Times, which supports the government’s program, suggests the turmoil in South Africa has been spurred by the belief that “a few more turns of the ratchet would send the present South African structure toppling.”

Not likely, the editorial says: “Foreigners must abandon their desire for a quick fix and realize that South Africa is caught in a transition process which will continue for many years.”

The same message has been given to businessmen, whose views are sharply divided. Those linked mainly to Western corporations are still urging talks with the ANC and the release of Nelson Mandela. Afrikaner businessmen generally back the government’s tough line and express confidence that security forces will quickly “normalize” the situation in black areas.

Botha and Tutu may meet again, but are unlikely to agree. Meanwhile, two other men wait in the wings--Mandela and Zulu Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi.

The government wants Buthelezi to advise on legislation and help draft a power-sharing constitution. The chief says he will not cooperate until Mandela is freed unconditionally. But whether the offer will be made until the government is sure that the incipient black revolt has been crushed is doubtful--and whether Mandela will accept even more doubtful.