Then, there were those whom we in government circles referred to as the ‘fifth-columnists’: people who came from the bosom of the old order, but had decided to leave the fold – some with much fanfare, others quietly – to give their passionate support to the liberation struggle. They believed in justice and wanted to fight against the wrongs of the past in every way possible. In this process, they often became estranged from family and friends. Many led a lonely life in exile, were reviled locally but believed steadfastly in their moral mission, were ideologically brainwashed, and could talk endlessly. The tragedy is that many of them, after a life of selfless sacrifice, were pushed aside by the ANC, especially during the period of Zuma rule.
Still others came from diverse backgrounds, persuasions, ages and racial or ethnic groups. More often than not, they could not be tackled without wearing gloves; they were often talented and wilful people who defied the existing order, especially if it was based (actually or reputedly) on injustice.
In the 1980s, increasing numbers of people from the elite of the old order began to throw their weight behind the ANC: business people, church leaders, academics, sports personalities, artists, journalists, lawyers … many of them donated money to the ANC, and others gave intellectual support. This also gave the ANC a moral anchor.
The government’s team
Dr Gerrit Viljoen was initially the chief negotiator on behalf of the government and the National Party. However, this good-natured and often brilliant academic had made the transition into the harsh world of politics not with entire success. For example, he could never understand why his colleagues were prepared to stab one another in the back to climb one rung higher on the political ladder.
Sometimes, he lacked sufficient firmness when it was required. For example, he was not man enough to come down hard on Kobie Coetsee, who habitually arrived late at meetings and then wanted to hear everything he had missed from the beginning. Furthermore, he was not careful enough when certain senior officials would take chances and ‘just quickly’ get his signature of approval when he was in a hurry to go somewhere.
On other occasions, his firmness was uncalled for. More than once, he reprimanded officials in a belittling manner, until I issued him with a threatening ultimatum. Officials are not cannon fodder for politicians.
Viljoen’s chairmanship of the Policy Group for Negotiation and the Core Group for Negotiation was of short duration. In May 1992, he resigned due to poor health. His term of office was characterised by a lack of strategic leadership, authoritative decision-making and practical experience.
However, the Core Group presented some excellent strategic arguments on the negotiation process under his leadership, on occasion. Unfortunately, they were not followed through with binding decisions and clear objectives. Key ministers would turn up late for meetings or simply not attend; others would excuse themselves early in the proceedings, with the result that key issues had to be discussed over and over again to give everyone an opportunity to contribute.
The outcome was that the agendas of the Core Group became an illogical and drawn-out business, with the same points being repeated ad nauseam and with no clear direction. Together with secretary Nelius Volschenk, I would sometimes tinker with the agenda in the interest of sharper focus and less repetition, but the government’s planning gained little from our intervention.
President De Klerk appointed Roelf Meyer to succeed Viljoen. Meyer brought specific skills and leadership qualities to the negotiating table. On his appointment as minister of constitutional development, he contributed his talents of heaps of energy, enthusiasm, management insight and engaging human relations. Meyer was easy-going in social circles, a good listener, and well able to grasp the core aspects of challenges and sum them up succinctly for further discussion.
However, for a politician he was not a fluent speaker and regularly struggled, particularly in public and sometimes also in meetings, to express his point of view clearly. As a public speaker, he was unable to convey the government’s negotiation plans successfully. His strong point was smaller discussion groups, in which his personal charm stood him in good stead. He liked to seek compromises; I can recall very few occasions where he took an unyielding stand on a fundamental issue.
There is a difference between being small-mindedly stubborn and taking a firm stand on your considered opinion. Meyer often landed somewhere between these two poles; being ‘lukewarm’ cost him dearly in the eyes of many of his political colleagues who regarded him as spineless and soon began to suspect that he might even be hand in glove with the ANC.
In addition to Meyer, a number of other young agterryers or back-benchers appeared on the scene as newly appointed ministers and deputy ministers. They soon discovered, to their shock, that there was a difference between tending the horses in the background, at a safe remove from the battlefield, and fighting in the heat of battle from the saddle of the foremost horse. More often than not, even the most senior ministers in the De Klerk Cabinet were neither prepared nor equipped to do so.
Meyer and De Klerk appeared to get along well enough, particularly in the early stages of the proceedings. This strengthened Meyer’s position considerably.
Kobie Coetsee will probably be remembered for two things: becoming the first NP politician to meet the imprisoned Nelson Mandela on his visit to the latter in hospital in 1985; and, with his ducking and diving during the negotiations, playing directly into the hands of the ANC. While he was not a member of the government’s active negotiating team, his seniority in Cabinet and his shady manoeuvres on matters of cardinal concern meant that he had a major influence on the course of the negotiation process.
Coetsee’s knack of appropriating important matters for himself meant that, from the outset, there was a tug- of- war between the Department of Constitutional Development and his Department of Justice over which of the two should take primary responsibility for the negotiations on behalf of the government. He argued that people versed in legal matters should handle all ‘judicial processes’; our insistence that the constitution was primarily a constitutional issue and not a ‘legal problem’ was eventually accepted.
Later, when Coetsee was given the additional portfolios of defence and the intelligence services, he became even bolder than before, often setting off on his own course on anything that had even the vaguest legal undertones. Some of us wondered whether the fact that he got away with murder – even from the president – meant that he had an uncomfortable hold on the head of state.
According to British journalist Anthony Sampson, PW Botha said of Coetsee: ‘A peculiar little man. If you ask me what he did in my Cabinet, I don’t know. I always felt, after talking to him about Mandela, that it was a case of confusion that simply grew worse.’1
Inkatha was also a critical role-player in the negotiation process. When it was founded in 1975, this Zulu cultural organisation was known as Inkatha yeNkululeko yeSizwe. It was only in 1990, when it became a political party, that it was renamed the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP).
Chief Buthelezi was a competent leader of the IFP, but his sometimes unpredictable whims and temper did not make him an easy team member. However, his moods should be seen in context; from the very beginning, the ANC wanted to oust him in every conceivable way, soon gaining NP allies as a result.
History shows that the IFP was not always handled fairly and in a dignified manner, and that South Africa paid a heavy price for this for at least a decade in the form of bloody conflict between the ANC and Inkatha. Justifiably, the IFP objected strongly to the implementation of the ‘sufficient consensus’ agreement. This agreement implied that Buthelezi, the government and the ANC would have veto rights on certain crucial matters. But, in practice, the IFP gradually lost its