SECURITY / INDEFINITE DETENTIONS : S. Africa Police Now Use Law to Isolate Whites, Blacks Alike

Only weeks after South Africa lifted the lid on political expression in February, police in this small town arrested Valentine Senkhane during a protest march and tossed him into jail.

Senkhane, a black lawyer and local African National Congress leader, was held in solitary confinement for three months. He was denied visits from his lawyer, his family and even his doctor. He had nothing to read and only jailers and police detectives for human contact.

“Sometimes, I would look forward to interrogation, just for the company,” Senkhane said. “But they never came.”

That’s the way it is sometimes with Section 29, one of the more notorious security laws on South Africa’s statute books and, lately, a source of increasing friction between the ANC and the government.

Despite a much-touted peace accord last week and removal of the state of emergency in most of South Africa, there is still a strong web of security laws that give police broad powers to detain political activists indefinitely without filing charges.

For more than 25 years, Section 29 of the Internal Security Act has empowered police to hold anyone in solitary confinement “for purposes of interrogation” until “all questions are satisfactorily answered.” And no court in the land has the power to review or overrule such a detention.

More than 24,000 South Africans, including some of the most famous names in black liberation lore, have been detained under Section 29, some for months. More than 50,000 additional activists have been detained under emergency decrees over the years.

Of all those so held in the last three decades, less than a fourth were ever charged with a crime, and only 3% were convicted, according to human rights groups. Senkhane’s detention ended three weeks ago, when he was charged with forming an illegal gathering and was released on bail.

But police contend that Section 29 is an invaluable investigative tool because it allows them to prevent additional crimes by yanking suspected terrorists out of society while they build a case that will hold up in court.

“Interrogating suspects takes time, and that’s why we have Section 29--to save lives,” police Maj. Gen. Herman Stadler said.

But Section 29 has been loudly criticized by the ANC and other anti-apartheid organizations. They say police use the law to extract information by isolating and disorienting detainees. In the worst cases, they contend, police use it to torture confessions out of activists.

More than 60 people have died in detention, including two this year.

In an agreement reached last week, the ANC suspended its armed struggle, and the government, among other things, agreed to review its security legislation, including the Internal Security Act. But, within days, the ANC had accused the government of using “Section 29 and other repressive laws to disrupt our organizations and to harass our members.”

It specifically protested the detention of Mac Maharaj, a member of the ANC’s national executive committee, who has been held since last month. Maharaj’s associates say he was arrested in connection with a 3-year-old ANC plan to stage an armed insurrection in South Africa if negotiations failed.

Maharaj is one of about 100 blacks and several dozen white right-wing militants who sit in Section 29 detention today.

Right-wing whites were once among the strongest supporters of extra police powers, but they have recently had a change of heart.

“Our people are being held in solitary confinement, and they have no legal representation,” Robert van Tonder, leader of the far-right Boer State Party, complained recently. “You read about these things happening in Russia, but you never used to see this here.”

That gives Maj. Gen. Stadler, the police spokesman, a chuckle.

“Everybody reckoned Section 29 was just for black people,” Stadler said. “Right-wing people always told us we must keep it because it’s a good thing. Now they’re all screaming that it’s bad.”